The Promise of the Sea
by Writer25
Summary: It is the age of discovery. The age of adventure. And the age of piracy. The sea holds promises of freedom and excitement. Those seduced by the sea, may loose their hearts completely. But the sea can be a cruel and dangerous mistress. Arnold, the governor of Port Hillwood, gets kidnapped by pirates. On board their ship, he meets a beautiful blonde who's not as innocent as she seems
1. Prologue

The age of discovery. The age of adventure. The age of explorers. And the age of pirates.

The world held a feeling of eagerness. Eager to be the explorer or to reap the benefits of their gains. Every country had a stake in traversing the unknown parts of the New World. Towns, ports, and cities flourished with the goods gained from the growing trade routes. Inland where the older, wealthy cities laid were no different. The baker boasts about his dark crusted bread, made from flour imported from India scarce two months ago. The jeweler shows his wares, charms and trinkets arrived straight from the mysterious Caribbean Islands. Cooks of old manors discuss different recipes using the strange spices from across the sea. In one such manor house, a man brags to his associates about how much wealth he'll gain from the newly opened slave trade. His young daughter, encompassed by her pink, silken dress, sits on the window sill. She sighs and stares longingly at the distant glitter on the horizon and dreams of the freedom it promises to bring.

The old cities give way to the fresher lands. Grassy hills rise to the sky; the air is scented with the ocean close by. The wind rises and falls in great gusts. The sun beats down strong and clear unbothered by the wisps of airy clouds that dot the sky. Two boys race, their young bodies limber and breathless with energy. Their hands carry makeshift swords, fashioned from wood.

"Avast ye!"

"Have at thee, you scum!"

Their high-pitched cries of battle are punctuated by the hallow tapping of their swords meeting. Excited grins stretch their faces. Arnold laughed, his blond tangle of messy hair getting riled by the wind. He swung his sword at his best friend Gerald, whose dark skin glinted with sweat across his forehead. Both boys were clad in old sailors' clothes, patched and hemmed by loving mothers' hands. Gerald caught Arnold swing with a clumsy upward thrust of his own.

"I Gerald, loyal privateer to the queen, vanquish you in the name of the queen!" Gerald cried out grandly and thrust his sword forward.

Arnold moved to catch the wooden blade under his arm and gave a loud anguish cry, clutching his chest. "Oh! I am slain! My ghost shall gain my revenge! Oh!"

With another anguished and dramatic cry, he fell back against the lush grass. His smile belied his theatrics even as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Gerald, despite not receiving a fatal wound of his own, giggled and flopped on the grass beside him. There was a pause while they both regained their breaths.

"Hey Gerald," Arnold whispered out of the side of his mouth, "wouldn't it be cool if we could be real pirates?"

"Nah, pirates are just crooks," Gerald opened one eye and regarded his best friend, "what I want to be is a privateer. Then I get to be employed by the queen herself."

"But what about the navy like your dad and Jamie-O? They're employed by the queen too."

Gerald scoffed and waved the suggestion off. "Nah. The navy's lame. All they do is take orders and stuff. Besides, they don't explore anything, they just catch pirates."

"Well I want to be an explorer like my parents," Arnold declared proudly, "They're employed by the queen too. And they get to travel the New World and go on adventures."

"Yeah, your parents are the coolest," Gerald agreed, "Too bad they don't let us go with them when they leave."

Arnold nodded. He wished more than anything to sail the seas with his parents. He was eight years old and felt more than ready to start aiding them in their journeys. Even his dad often praised him for how smart he was.

"Arrrrnooooold! Arrrrnoooold!" His name was carried over the wind, called out by a familiar, scraggly voice.

"Coming grandpa!" Arnold jumped up and secured his wooden sword in his belt. "I have to go now, Gerald. Do you want to come over for dinner?"

"No thanks, I don't want to get sick again from your grandma's cooking," Gerald teased and flopped over dead again.

Arnold only rolled his eyes before racing off barefoot down the grassy hill. A grin spread across his face as he took in deep breathes of the salty yet fresh sea air. His grandfather stood at the bottom of the hill, blinking up at the bright sunlight. Time and age may have wrinkled his skin and made the joints more prominent in his hands, but it did nothing to his strong jaw or his sharp gaze. An old, retired general, Phil was still as strong as a bull but as kind as a mare.

"Hi, grandpa!" Arnold threw his arms around his waist.

"Ah, Shortman, there you are," Grandpa Phil cackled and ruffled Arnold's blond locks, "if you keep getting shorter we might lose you in that tall grass."

"Very funny, grandpa."

Together they made their way back to the house, a cozy cottage built by Arnold's great grandfather and inherited down to his grandfather. The soft grass gave way to rough dirt road eventually stone as Arnold and his grandfather reached the front door.

"Stella! Gertie! You won't believe who I've capture off the coast of our home!" Grandpa Phil called out, "The feared pirate Arnold Shortman!"

"Oh mercy me, a pirate!? How dreadful!"

"Mom!" At the sound of his mother's voice, Arnold raced into the drawing room. Stella sat at a table, her maps and charts all spread out in front of her. She looked up with a smile at her son raced towards her.

"Careful," She laughed as her son nearly collided with the table, "the ink is still wet."

"Is this more of the New World?" Arnold's green eyes were bright and wide, "How much more is there?"

"Oh much, much more. See here?" Stella pointed at a small segment of land that was sticking out of the mostly drawn coastline, "They say that this part mostly has humid jungles, ferocious tribes, and gold."

"Gold?" Arnold echoed, his eyes growing even wider.

"Yep but even more importantly, the Fountain of Youth," His mother's eyes glittered with excitement, "They say if you find it, you can live forever."

Arnold's entire body vibrated with excitement, "Please, please, please can I go with you to find it? I'm old enough. I'm almost nine years old!"

"You're eight."

"Which is almost nine!"

Stella gave an exasperated sigh and smiled gently at her son. "One day honey, I promise."

Arnold huffed and looked down. It wasn't fair. His parents always got to have amazing adventures, see new things, and leave him behind. His mom sighed again and drew him into a hug as if she could read his mind.

"We just want to keep you safe honey."

Just then the front door opened and his father's heavy boots sounded in the front hall.

"Mom! Dad! Stell? You guys home?" Miles called out.

"Dad!" Arnold broke from his mother's embrace and ran to his father. Maybe he could plead his case with him. By the time he reached the front hall though, his father was already talking in a low voice to Grandpa Phil and Grandma Gertie.

"Already? But you two just got back," Gertie said angrily, "Get my horse ready, I'll talk to the queen myself!"

"Easy mom, the queen gave her orders. Besides Stella and I did ask for another commission," Miles sighed, "I just didn't think it'd be this soon."

Arnold's heart sank. "You're leaving again?"

Miles shifted his gaze down at his son and got on one knee to be eye level with him. His green eyes matched his son's and looked at him kindly. "I'm afraid so pal. With so much land to discover the queen wants the best out there exploring it."

"But can't I go with you this time?" Arnold asked plaintively, "You always leave me behind."

Miles's gaze shifted upwards behind Arnold and then back at him. "Next year."

Arnold gasped in joy and surprise while Stella voiced her concern from the doorway behind him. "Honey, don't you think-"

"I think he'll be ready by then," Miles stood up and playfully ruffled Arnold's hair, "Besides, I was ten when I worked on my first ship."

"You mean it, dad? You really, really mean it?" Arnold smiled excitedly.

"I sure do." Miles winked. "This will be the very last time your mother and I will leave you behind."


	2. Chapter 1

A/N- So I'm super excited to bring you the first official chapter of my brand new adventure story. I haven't written one of these in a while so I'm really eager to know what you guy think. Please read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

Twelve Years Later.

The salt tinged air blew Arnold's hair back as he stared longingly at the sea. The sky was a clear, sharp blue and the sun was strong. While he was no longer a little boy, Arnold never forgot his love of the sea. Right now, it lay beneath his balcony, stretching out far to the horizon. During this time of day, it was a light blue grey, with white foam dancing across it in uneven rows. Arnold braced his forearms against the railing and leaned forward. The smell of the sea grew stronger and his shirt began to billow around his legs. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine himself balancing on the forecastle of a mighty ship, conquering and slicing through the mighty slate blue ocean. Exploring distant lands, unseen by civilized eyes. Arnold, the greatest explorer ever known.

An apologetic cough sounded behind him. Arnold jumped, nearly falling over, and turned around sheepishly. Robert Simmons, his personal manservant, stood by the balcony doors unsuccessfully trying to hold back a smile. Only two decades older than Arnold himself, Robert didn't show his age in his youthful face or ready smiles.

"Breakfast has been ready for quite some time, sir," Robert said mildly, "Shall I have the cook reheat it for you?"

"No, no I'll be right down. Thank you, Robert."

Arnold cast one last longing look at the ocean before turning away and heading back into his room. Robert followed him, closing the balcony doors and effectively shutting out the sounds of the ocean waves. Arnold had just gotten his hand on the bedroom door when Robert gave another quiet cough.

"Um, sir?" Robert nodded, completely failing to hide his amused smile, "you seem to forget that you're a tad… under-dressed."

Arnold glanced down at himself and frowned. His shirt fell nearly to his knees and his thick cotton stockings could nearly pass as pants. Just how was he under-dressed for breakfast?

Robert spoke up as if reading his mind, "Sir, your standing now requires you to wear more… appropriate attire. I can assist you if you wish."

Arnold grimaced and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. By "appropriate" Robert meant "stuffy". Collars, itchy hosiery, stiff waist coats; Arnold had suffered through them all in the past year. The only thing he'd been able put his foot down on was refusing the wig they wanted him to wear. But he had no other choice but to nod and allow Robert to dress him head to toe in a light blue tailored suit. The fine cotton material did nothing to ease the discomfort. Everything was pulled tight, fastened, and straightened out. Robert worked fast, tore a comb through his hair in a vain effort to contain it, and in no less than an hour Arnold was dressed in a way befitting a baronet and newly commissioned governor of Port Hillwood. Both titles he had inherited from a late great uncle on his grandfather's side. Both titles that should have gone to his father…

Arnold's footsteps echoed loudly on the grand staircase in the governor's mansion. _His_ mansion. He absently tugged at the silk cravat around his neck. Was it the knotted silk choking him, or being surrounded by such splendor? Several servants gave him small curtsies as he passed. Arnold felt himself flush and nodded at them absently. A few of them were older than him and yet _they_ were treating _him_ with reverence? His best friend would call him an idiot for not enjoying this, but Arnold hadn't asked for any of this either.

Breakfast was served to him on silver platters by a nervous maid and an even more nervous kitchen boy. Arnold picked over lukewarm oatmeal spread thick with treacle and a plate of left over cold ham. He should have been starving but the tight waist coast coat had a way of suppressing his appetite.

"Um, e-excuse me, sir?"

Arnold looked up to see his kitchen boy giving him a nervous smile. "Yes, Eugene?"

"If you, um, don't like that," Eugene nodded to his breakfast, "I can fix you something else if you like."

"No, no it's great really." To placate him, Arnold took a big spoonful of the oatmeal and was rewarded with Eugene's sigh of relief. When he retreated into the kitchen though, Arnold heard a faint crash and Eugene mumble, "I'm okay".

Arnold smothered a laugh and went back to picking over his food. Boredom was beginning to set in as the maids and servants almost silently went about their work. No one spoke to him outside of a respectful good morning. Arnold didn't have anything to look forward to after breakfast either. Some of the few things on the agenda were scheduling an assembly to go over proposed taxes, studying tax law from the home country, meetings with assembly member individually and something else he forgot but it was probably just as boring. As if he could read Arnold's mind, Robert came in and handed him his leather-bound book where he was _supposed_ to be keeping track of this sort of stuff.

"Thank you, Robert," Arnold murmured halfheartedly, but then perked up, "would you like to join me for breakfast? I know it's against protocol but I could use the company. And you can tell me more about your sailing days."

Robert paused and gave an uneasy laugh. "I'm afraid I've told you too much already sir. Besides, I would hate to breech our social relationship with familiarity since we're not equals."

"I could order you to if that helps." Arnold suggested with a laugh.

Robert gave another pause and briefly looked around as if checking if the coast was clear. Finally, he smiled. "Oh, I suppose I can. But I'll have to clean while I talk. Have I ever told you about my encounter with Flame Beard the pirate?"

"You had an encounter with a pirate?" Arnold echoed wide-eyed.

"Oh yes, when I was around your age I worked for a merchant ship as a navigator." Robert sighed wistfully, "It was such an educational experience. It's how I learned to speak German. One night though, I was awakened by cannon fire. Had they not been warning shots we would have gone down before we knew they were upon us."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. We were all ordered up on deck while they stripped our ship bare. My friend Peter and I nearly died of fright when we saw Flame Beard himself. Sparks of fire flickered from the midnight curls of his beard. His eyes were red like the devil himself."

"And he let you go?" Arnold pushed his barely touched breakfast aside and leaned forward, "Pirates do that, right? They don't always kill the members of the other ship rumors say do they?"

Robert heaved a dramatic sigh. "Sadly, only a few of us were spared. Many were taken for ransom or prisoner. They were probably made to walk the plank."

Arnold opened his mouth to ask more questions but so many were crowded the forefront of his mind. Robert's stories always had a way of doing that to him. But then a maid entered the dining room saying that someone was at the door for him. Robert immediately switched back to servant mode and got up to receive the guest properly.

"Sir Arnold," Robert came back to the threshold of the room and offered Arnold a small bow, "Mr. Johanssan is here to see you. Should I have him wait in the receiving room or-"

"No, no please show him in here," Arnold interrupted eagerly with a large smile on his face.

Robert left the room with another bow but Arnold was unable to contain his excitement and followed him into the front hall. Gerald Johanssan. His best and only friend in the entire world and he had barely seen him in the past week. Ever since he became midshipman Gerald had been kept just as busy as Arnold, except his job was far less tedious. Robert had just taken his hat and coat and Arnold could see that Gerald was fully dressed in his uniform. Gerald smiled as Arnold approached and looked him up and down with an approving nod.

"I see you're being treated pretty decently," Gerald remarked lightly, completely teasing, "You could use a few more gold buttons on your waistcoat though."

"You are a true comedian sir," Arnold rolled his eyes, "wanna sit down for some breakfast? It's kind of cold but I can have them reheat something for you."

"Well let's see, I've been up since dawn, like most adults-"

"Gerald…"

"So yes, I would love some breakfast." Gerald laughed and clapped Arnold on the back, "what the hell took you so long to get up this time? I stopped by at eight but you were still asleep."

Arnold shrugged off the question and chose to lead Gerald into the informal dining room instead. He didn't want to admit even to Gerald that he had been having the dream again. It was too painful to even think about and he tried very hard to forget it again in the morning. But Gerald seemed to be able to see it on his face because he quickly changed the subject.

"You wouldn't believe the two clowns that just got enlisted," Gerald groaned, "One is a country bumpkin first saw the sea last week. The other thinks that he'll make captain in six months and for some reason that translates into him being a millionaire."

"Are you serious?" Arnold laughed, "are they at least any good to work with?"

"Maybe if they don't trip over themselves every five seconds," Gerald scoffed and gestured for Robert to get him a plate of food. Robert, alert as always, was ready with a full plate and a cup of hot coffee. "But I swear, I'm going to whip those two losers into shape even if it kills them."

"Don't be too hard on them. Maybe if you just talked to them, give them some pointers. You were new too once."

"Christ, I hope I was never as new as them. I want to make Lieutenant commander by the time I'm thirty not eighty."

Arnold chuckled and regarded his best friend. So much had changed in the past decade. Both of them had grown up some, but Gerald still had Arnold beat in the height and muscle department. And there was also an air of confidence about Gerald that Arnold sometimes envied. Gerald knew what he wanted from life and was going after it hard. Suddenly Arnold started laughing causing Gerald to look up with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing, but," Arnold smiled and regarded his best friend, "remember when we were kids. You hated the idea of being in the navy and I wanted to be an explorer. What do you think happened to us?"

Gerald lifted his coffee cup in a mock salute, "We grew up Sir Arnold. We grew up."

Arnold nodded, a heavy feeling starting to weigh down his smile, "Yeah I guess we did."

"One of our vessels thought they spotted a pirate ship today. They didn't get a good look at the flag but they think it may have been black and orange," Gerald's tone became serious and his face darkened, "If you ask me, they should have chased those bloody pirates down and brought their dead bodies back to port so we could hang their corpses."

"That's a little…harsh," Arnold fidgeted in his seat, knowing what he was going to say next could upset Gerald, "I have been thinking a little about my position on piracy, you know as governor, and I was thinking that maybe the current policy might be a little… severe."

There was a small clink and Arnold reluctantly lifted his eyes to see Gerald setting down his cup of coffee and giving a look that made Arnold's blood run cold.

"Are you telling me," Gerald spoke slowly, "that you want to lift our ban on piracy? _The crown's_ ban on piracy?"

"I'm trying to consider Port Hillwood's need for new trade routes," Arnold pleaded, "You know how much we've been struggling this past year. Pirates have sailing and trade experience. If we employ them as privateers instead of just killing them, then maybe we can regain our sea advantage."

Gerald heaved a weary sigh and reached into his jacket pocket. Arnold felt his heart sink. He knew before Gerald even pulled it out what it was. The pocket watch that had once been silver was now a dull gray. A large dent in the front prevented it from closing all the way. And the inside face was cracked, keeping the time forever at eleven o'two.

"Jamie had been so proud of this stupid thing," Gerald mused out loud, "carried it around with him everywhere. He used to tease me about not having one."

Arnold bit his lip, "Gerald I-"

"Sometimes I wondered if he begged for his life before they killed him. I mean, the guy was only sixteen. Sixteen seemed so old to us back then, but he was just a kid, too wasn't he? But it's not like pirates care about that."

"Gerald I'm sorry," Arnold blurted out, "what happened to Jamie- I know it affected you and your family a lot-"

"And it should affect you too, Arnold!" Gerald cried in exasperation, "your parents-"

"We don't know what happened for sure," Arnold cut him off sternly, "but I do know that they wouldn't want me to drive myself crazy trying to find out either."

Gerald narrowed his eyes and held Arnold in an intense gaze for a long moment. But then his features his expression softened and he gave him a sympathetic smile. "You don't ever wonder if they're still out there?"

"I can't afford too." Arnold swallowed thickly, "They sold nearly everything they owned trying to find out what happened. They sold the house to hire ships to find them My grandparents died wondering. They wouldn't want me to do the same."

Gerald nodded and became silent. The distant ticking of the grand clock was the only sound in the room. The coffee and food had undoubtedly grown cold but neither of them moved from the table. Gerald looked deep in thought, absently rubbing his jaw. But Arnold was trying to avoid the day's responsibilities for just a little while longer. Assemblies, meetings, taxes… what was the last thing he was supposed to be doing? Planning for… something…

"So, do I get an invite for tonight or is this one of those exclusive things?" Gerald asked suddenly.

"That's what I'm forgetting!" Arnold grinned and snapped his fingers, "the ball is tonight!"

Gerald gave him a disbelieving look, "You forgot you've been planning a party in your own house?"

"Robert has been taking care of everything for me. You know I have no idea what these people expect from me."

"Well you better learn soon," Gerald chuckled, "Viscount Lloyd and his family are coming. Or did you forget that too?"

"No, I didn't forget." Arnold felt his face grow warm and he tugged nervously at his cravat again. "The Viscount is brokering a marriage between his daughter and me."

Stone cold coffee sprayed out of Gerald's mouth. Robert darted forward from the kitchen with a damp rag ready. Gerald was too busy giving Arnold an incredulous look to notice.

"Um, is there something you forget to tell me, your best friend!?"

Arnold resisted the urge to slouch down in his seat and hide, "I wasn't sure if I was going through with it. We've exchanged a total of three letters before and they sent me a portrait. But her dad has money and connections that Hillwood desperately needs."

"Mmm, mmm, mmm," Gerald shook his head with a small mocking smile, "You poor, poor man. Sacrificing yourself to marry a beautiful, rich woman for the sake of Hillwood. It must be torture being you."

Arnold only huffed and glared down at the table. Of course, he didn't want to marry some stranger just for their money. But his personal happiness wasn't what mattered here. All that mattered was that he took care of Port Hillwood.

* * *

The corset dug into her waist but Rhonda learned long ago not to complain. Her personal maid Nadine had laced it tight, but nowhere near as tightly as her mother would have. To distract herself from her discomfort, she chose instead to look out of the carriage window. Pokey little Port Hillwood was already settling down for the night and yet the sun had barely gone down. Unlike Paris where they lit street lamps and dined under the star light.

"Mommy," Rhonda sighed for the umpteenth time, "are you sure that the betrothal to the Earl of Lyon's son really fell through?"

"I'm afraid it did, sweetheart," Lady Lloyd sighed as well, "but the Earl demanded too much for your dowry. Especially considering the unsavory rumors surrounding his own daughter."

Rhonda pouted, "I don't see what her being a whore has to do with me."

"I will not have my youngest daughter's name be sullied even by association!" Lord Lloyd spoke up angrily, "It was costly enough when your sister tried to elope."

"Thank goodness her betrothal was already set." Her mother nodded in agreement with her husband.

Rhonda returned her gaze to the window. At least Arnold was around her age. All seven of her other potential suitors had been at least thirty-five. One had even been fifty. Lady Lloyd sighed (all her mother ever seemed to do was sigh), and shook her head disapprovingly at Rhonda's gown.

"Red, why must you always instead on red?" She lamented, "Why do you never where anything softer like pink or lavender."

"Mommy, I don't even own anything pink or lavender," Rhonda grouched, "I never have and I never will."

"We'll go shopping tomorrow."

"Where? There isn't a single boutique in this port."

"That will all change soon," Her father spoke up suddenly, "Years ago, Port Hillwood had the potential to be the large port on the Mediterranean trade route. And with our financial backing, it could be again!"

"And you'll be the wife of a prospering governor," Her mother encouraged, "Your marriage will save this town and our family from ruin. As long as you can seal the deal."

Both of her parents smiled at her expectantly but Rhonda refused to grace them with a smile in return. She would do her duty as an obedient daughter should, but she wouldn't pretend to be happy about it. When they arrived at the governor's mansion however, she did have to admit it was much better than she had expected it to be. The ball was already well underway, but the Lloyds were always fashionably late. The other guests instantly took notice of them and their apparent status and parted before them. The envious looks from other young ladies told Rhonda that she had chosen her dress well. It was nothing new to her though. Rhonda was born for the world of elegance and beauty, and she had learned how to thrive in it. She only hoped that Port Hillwood and her husband-to-be would be able to keep up with her.

* * *

"Are you nervous, man?" Gerald nudged him playfully and winked, "you're meeting your future wife tonight."

"Did you know they're going to be staying here?" Arnold groaned, "They didn't like house we had for them so Robert offered them rooms here instead."

"Well try to contain yourself, tiger."

"Gerald!"

His best friend laughed while Arnold's face heated up. He tried to remind himself to take slow, even breaths. The suit Robert stuffed him in left no room for hyperventilating. All this pomp, elegance, and formality made him nervous and antsy. He had wanted to take one more walk on the beach before the ball but too much still had to be done until the very last minute. And with the Lloyd family staying in the house until who knew how long (his wedding?), there would be no more solitude for a while.

"Heads up," Gerald nudged him again, "here they come."

A sharply dress, perfectly glamorous family was headed straight for them. Arnold plastered a welcoming but cool smile on his face and stepped forward while Gerald melted back.

"Lord Lloyd, Lady Lloyd, welcome," Arnold offered them a straight-backed bow, "It is nice to finally meet you."

"Sir Arnold, a pleasure," Lord Lloyd returned his bow with a respectful nod, "may I introduce our daughter, Miss Rhonda Lloyd?"

Arnold politely turned his gaze to Rhonda who stepped forward and offered him her hand. "Sir, it is… nice to finally meet you in person."

The portrait didn't do her justice, that much was certain. The girl curtseying before him was far more glamorous than the girl in the painting portrayed. Her gaze was as sharp as a hawk's she appraised him from under her dark lashes. Her blood red lips matched her dress and the rubies at her throat.

"The pleasure is mine," Arnold didn't miss a beat as he took her hand and bow his head towards it. He was probably supposed to kiss it, but the glinting ruby ring on her finger looked like it could cut him if he tried.

After they straightened up her parents looked back and forth between them and approval flashed in their eyes.

"We'll just leave you two to get better acquainted then," Lady Lloyd took her husband's arm and before Arnold could stop them, they disappeared in the crowd. An awkward silence stretched between until Arnold heard a small cough behind him.

"Oh! May I introduce you to a friend of mine?" Arnold desperately gestured for Gerald to step up beside him, "Miss Lloyd, this is Mr. Gerald Johanssen."

Rhonda looked mildly annoyed but smiled politely and offered Gerald her hand as well. "Charmed, I'm sure."

"Very charmed indeed," Gerald purred and unlike Arnold didn't hesitate to plant a delicate kiss on her hand, "It is a great and rare opportunity for me to meet such a beautiful lady such as yourself."

At once Rhonda blushed and her smile became a tad more genuine. "Sir, you flatter me."

"And you dazzle this room with your beauty," Gerald flashed her a winning smile, "sadly though, I am unworthy to stay and bask in it so I shall take my leave."

He kissed her hand a final time before flashing Arnold a look and vanishing into the crowd. Arnold wanted to strangle and beg his best friend to stay. He didn't have Gerald smooth talking skills to get him through this uncomfortable situation.

"Your friend is… quite charming," Rhonda giggled.

"Oh, he's charming alright," Arnold laughed nervously, "would you, um, care to dance?"

Rhonda nodded her consent and allowed Arnold to lead her out onto the floor. Arnold was hopeful. Maybe once they both relaxed, they would make small talk and get to know each other better. Rhonda didn't seem so bad. They could easily have some things in common and get along great. And maybe, just maybe, they could even grow to like each other one day. Maybe even love each other….

Arnold held on to that hope as they danced, and talk, danced again, and mingled. And hour by hour that hope diminished. Their conversation remained stilted and formal. He could barely get her to fully smile at him let alone laugh. And she just seemed so shocked (and a bit offended) that he didn't through these parties on a weekly basis. To be frank, Arnold was relieved to turn her back over to her parents at the end of the party and allow Robert to see them to their rooms.

When the last of the help and the guests left, Arnold felt like he could finally breathe. The house was silent as he snuck out and made his way outside. The mansion sat on a cliff overlooking the sea, but with careful climbing Arnold could find a path that led to a small beach underneath. The sound of the waves was soothing as Arnold sat on the cool sand. The waves were nearly invisible in the dark, but he could still feel their power. It was almost ironic. The waves were invisible but powerful and he was visible and powerless. He didn't love his position or his betrothed, but he was irrevocably linked to both. Marrying Rhonda may be Port Hillwood's last hope. And Port Hillwood needed Arnold to make that happen, no matter what his personal feeling might be.

Watching the water, an idea came to mind but Arnold quickly dismissed it. He couldn't just hop on a boat and sail over the horizon. Too much was at stake for him to just abandon his responsibilities.

So, Arnold took a deep breath and stood up. It was time to be a man and take care of things. Tomorrow morning, he was going to go to Rhonda's father and officially ask permission to marry his daughter. It was what was best for Port Hillwood so that's what he was going to do.

But before Arnold could leave his beach, an explosion tore through the silence of the night and then came the screams.

Fear knotted his stomach as he frantically climbed the cliff face which obscured his view. The screams increased and several more explosions sounded. By the time, Arnold reached the top his suspicions were confirmed. Fires were burning, explosions made the ground tremble, screams of terror mixed with savage cries of glee. Even from this distant Arnold knew what was happening.

Port Hillwood was under attack by pirates.


	3. Chapter 2

"I don't understand why Gerald puts us on night watch every other night," Sid grumbled, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder, "He acts like he's our boss or something."

Stinky eyed him in confusion, "But I thought he was our boss."

"Pfft, technicalities."

Honestly, Sid didn't understand the point of the night watch. Nothing really happened in Port Hillwood anyway. It was just another dull, quiet night. The only sounds were their footsteps on the cobblestones and the dull drone of the sea.

"Um," Stinky jostled his arm, "is that something we should be concerned about?"

Sid glanced over in the direction Stinky was pointing. A dark shaped loomed on the water nearly invisible if not for the clouded moonlight sky. A shudder passed through them both as the watched the ship loom closer to the docks.

"Maybe it's a merchant ship?" Sid whispered.

Stinky looked fearful but hesitantly nodded. They both watched, wishing they were somewhere else. But other than gentle bobbing the shape remained stationary on the water.

Stinky swallowed thickly, "Maybe we should-"

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

Stinky and Sid whirled around, clumsily fumbling with their guns trying to raise them to face this new threat. Immediately behind them were several men dressed in rugged clothing. The most foreword of them looked to be around their age with bowl cropped black hair and red leather spectacles over his eyes. He gave them a low sleeping bow and spoke again.

"We apologize for interrupting your night," He spoke with a smile, "but we require your assisting in… locating someone."

Stinky looked mildly relieved and started to relax his weapon, "Well sure, I guess we could-"

"Peterson!" Sid hissed and jostled his arm. "Keep your guard up man. Don't you see what they are?" He then swallowed thickly and turned back to the men, "U-um, i-in the name of Port Hillwood, we demand you surrender to our authority!"

The men chuckled and the one in front's smile grew until it sent chills down Stinky and Sid's spines.

"Well then," He slowly straightened up, revealing four lit cherry bombs in-between his fingers, "I guess I'll just have to ask you to get out of my way then."

* * *

Arnold was breathless as he ran up the walkway to the house. He was in a panic, knowing he had to do something but exactly what he didn't know. The assembly had always glanced over emergency procedures, secure that the port's naval presence would ward off any threat. He reached the front door and started banging.

"Robert! Robert!" His voice was just below a shout. He needed Robert to hear him but didn't want to alarm the household.

The door opened much faster than Arnold had expected and he nearly fell in. He quickly regained his footing though and slammed the door shut, locking it too. Robert looked at him with a pale face and wide frightened eyes.

"Oh dear, sir. I heard all the commotion. What's going on?" He asked, but the quaver in his voice told Arnold that he probably already knew the answer.

"Pirates," Arnold answered simply, "Robert, what do I do?"

Robert wrung his hands, biting his lip in terror. "We- we- we have to get you somewhere safe! They'll capture you if they find you. They'll keelhaul you or make you walk the plank or- or-"

He began to hyperventilate; what little color had remained in his face was quickly draining. Arnold felt a small moment of superiority.

"Robert," He firmly grasped his shoulders and gave him a small shake, "I need you to get a hold of yourself. It's going to be alright. We'll get this place locked down. I have every confidence that Gerald will get things under control."

Robert hiccupped once then twice and blinked. He opened his mouth to say something but an explosion, far closer than they had been expecting, made the windows tremble. The pirates were beginning to close in.

"There's no time," Robert whispered in terror.

The next explosion made the windows crack and the servants began to arouse. Terror and panic began to dawn on their faces as they began to realize what was going on.

"Okay, everyone calm down." Arnold called in a clear loud voice, "Head to the basement and hide. Everything will be okay."

"Sir, Arnold? What's going on?"

A soft voice at the top of the stairs made all of Arnold's bravado plummet. He looked up to see Lady Rhonda and her family looking down at all the commotion. Arnold's stomach clenched in fear. If Robert had been worried about the pirates taking him because he was merely governor, how much more likely would they be to take a Viscount and his family?

"Lord Viscount!"

A final explosion blew the windows in and knocked everyone off their feet. Time was up. Arnold raced up the stairs as panic started to ensue. Lord Lloyd and his family stood petrified with terror. It seemed that they had already put the pieces together; they were the ones the pirates were after.

"Come on!" Arnold grabbed Rhonda's hand and led her family down the hall. He just had to trust that Robert would get the others somewhere safe in time. Then maybe he could…

"Sir Shortman," Lord Lloyd had to yell above the growing noise below them, "just what in heavens name is going on?"

"You're just going to have to trust me, sir," Arnold reached one of the many sitting rooms and looked for a place for the Lloyds to hide. He spotted a vent cupboard and ushered them inside. If Rhonda and Lady Lloyd had been wearing their fancy ball gowns they wouldn't have fit, but in the nightgowns and robes, they barely managed it.

"Arnold wait," Rhonda hissed and grabbed his arm, "What about you?"

The question made him stop. What about him? He honestly hadn't thought about it. A cold iciness began to bloom in the pit of his stomach as he recalled Robert's warnings. But he mustered up a smile for the Lloyds sake.

"I'll be okay," He said calmly then gently shut the door.

The sounds of fighting and screaming were still going on below him and several crashes sounded from the neighboring rooms as well. Arnold looked around trying to think of a plan. There were several windows. If he opened one and hid somewhere else, then maybe he could trick them into thinking he escaped. The Lloyds would be safely hidden while he doubled back and fought to make sure the others were safe as well until the navy could intervene. Arnold took a deep breath and proceeded to open the window. Deep down he knew it was a shaky plan. His fighting experience was minimal at best and-

The door suddenly slammed open, tendrils of dark smoke drifted into the room.

"HA! HA! Hahahahaha!"

With an insane cackle, a figure literally somersaulted into the room followed by his larger companion. Small and wiry, with black, bowl cropped hair the first figure spotted Arnold by the window and grinned. Several small round objects flew him his hands. Arnold barely had time to dodge out of the way before they hit the window and exploded. He winced as several flying shards of glass cut into his face and hands.

"Whoops," He cackled, "they slipped."

Arnold quelled the pounding in his chest and slowly stood up. "My name is Arnold Shortman, governor of Port Hillwood and I order you to leave. Do so now and you'll face no consequences for your grievous crimes."

He felt a small glimmer of pride as the two pirates exchanged looks of surprise. But that pride was shattered when their faces stretched into mocking grins.

"Did you hear that, Harold?" The wiry one laughed, "he _orders_ us to leave."

"And what are you going to do if we don't?" Harold took a menacing step forward, his hand on an ax Arnold hadn't noticed before. "You gonna cry and run to your mommy?"

"We're looking for someone specific," the smaller one spoke again, "Several someones in fact. We have it from a reliable source that a specific family is staying at this port but we can't seem to locate them. Perhaps you might be able to assist us?"

Arnold held back a sigh of relief. So, they didn't know that the Lloyds were staying here.

"They're gone." He said quickly, "They set sail this morning."

The two exchanged a looked and Arnold could have imagined it but he thought he saw worry in their eyes. But then they nodded and began to circle him.

"Is that so," the smaller one sneered, "because I would hate to think we came all this way for nothing."

"And we would get into a lot of trouble if we came back empty handed."

Arnold's stomach sank when he realized where their line of thinking was headed. Robert had told him stories of this happening before. Pirates kidnapping wealthy officials and royals for ransom. Sometimes holding entire towns hostage. Port Hillwood would never be able to afford a ransom. Without another thought, Arnold grabbed the nearest chair and swung it with all his might at the bigger pirate.

The chair shattered.

Arnold blinked, stunned as the chair in his hands was reduced to chunks of wood. It took him a minute to take in Harold's ax glinting in the air and his smug smile. Before Arnold could recover his legs were swept out from under him and he hit the floor, the breath knocked out of his body and the back of his head thudded against the floor. The smaller pirate straightened up with a grin. Arnold lay there stunned as the pirates loomed over him.

"Thanks for volunteering."

* * *

Port Hillwood was in complete and utter chaos. Pirates swarmed everywhere. People fled in terror. Fire lit up the night sky. Sweat poured down Gerald's face as he helped a man limp out of his burning shop. The fool had been inside trying to rescue a hidden store of gold.

"G-God bless you, sir," The man wheezed but Gerald ignored him.

He knew without even having to see it that the pirate's flag was black and orange. It was too much of a coincidence not to be true. Once Gerald made sure the man was safely away from the fire he ran into battle, shouting orders to his scattered navy men. They had been overwhelmingly unprepared. They only had their selves to blame. All the drills Gerald had requested from his superior had been denied. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was destroying these blasted pirates and securing Port Hillwood.

"Bloody pirates!" Gerald shouted in rage and fired his rifle at a couple of pirates kicking a fallen man.

One pirate fell back, clutching his side and the other one turned and ran towards Gerald, rapier raised. Gerald merely reloaded and fired again. His aim was perfect and this pirate fell as well. A sudden, enraged shout alerted Gerald, causing him to turn, rifle raised and ready to block a blow from a cutlass. Surprise showed on the pirate's face before he dislodged his sword and stood ready to fight. With no time to reload, Gerald dropped his rifle and unsheathed his own sword.

"Edmund!" A voice ordered, "step aside."

The both turned to the newcomer. A broad-shouldered pirate with shoulder length, dark blonde hair stepped forward. He wore a cocky smirk on his face and twin sabers at his side. "He's mine."

Gerald glared at the newcomer. "Go to hell pirate."

No further words were needed. The newcomer unsheathed his swords and ran at him. Gerald issued a quick upward slash which the pirate narrowly avoided. The pirate in return twisted his wrists, making the swords spin with almost no detectable motion. Gerald stifled a gasp as he felt the whistle of air too close for comfort, but he managed to jump back without getting cut.

"You're fast," the pirate sneered, "but do you have the skills to match?"

Gerald didn't even dignify him with a response. He thrust his sword forward and while the pirate trying to dodge back he thrust upwards, slicing the pirate's shoulder. A dark gleam came into his eyes. The two of them began a deadly dance, swinging their swords in sharp deadly arcs. At first, Gerald kept his senses on alert in case the other pirate decided to ambush him. But he soon had to focus all his energy on this fight. Not only was his opponent fast, he was strong. His size was beginning to work against him, though.

Gerald was quicker with his footwork and had better endurance. And he was more disciplined. The pirate swung at him wildly, his sharp blades cutting through the air and occasionally nicking Gerald's skin. Gerald's thrusts were more accurate though and he was able to him just as many times as well. He didn't have time to waste with just one pirate, though.

Suddenly, though, the pirate swung both swords down at him. Gerald had no choice but to block with the broad side of his own sword, using his hand to brace the blade. He winced as it bit in his palm. The attack brought the pirate's face close to Gerald's. They glared at each other, black hatred clear in their eyes. But then a wicked gleam came into the pirate's eyes. He began pressing forward. Gerald felt his feet begin to slide backward.

"Gerald!"

"Arnold!?"

For a second, only a split second, Gerald took his eyes off the pirate in front of him and saw Arnold struggling against two pirates who were dragging him away.

"Arn-"

Gerald's shout was cut short by the pirate suddenly slamming his thick skull into him. Stars danced before his eyes. Gerald's knees buckled and warm, sticky blood ran down his face. He wanted to stand, he had to keep standing, but his legs gave out and he collapsed. The last thing Gerald saw was the pirate's stupid smug grin before the blackness took over.

* * *

"Gerald!" Arnold yelled again as his best friend went down. He continued to struggle against the two pirates' grip. "Gerald!"

"Quit squirming!" The bigger pirate smacked him upside the head.

Once the stars before him cleared, Arnold could see that the pirates were beginning to exit the port, their arms loaded with stolen goods. He was dragged along with them as they headed towards the beach where several boats were. He was forced into one of them with his captors and they rowed to a large pirate ship waiting in the water. Arnold felt his stomach clench. The ship loomed above them, dark and menacing. A slight breeze caused the black flag to unfurl revealing a drawing of an orange fox, Arnold's captors hauled him on board.

"Are you sure we won't get in trouble for not finding that family?" Harold asked his companion warily, "because I got better things to do than to get beat up again."

"Worry not my fine fellow," the smaller pirate clapped him on the back, "if you can't attract flies with honey, you gather maggots instead."

"What?"

"Exactly."

Arnold barely listened to their conversation. Once on deck, he quickly looked around to get a bearing on his surroundings. Only a few hanging lanterns were lit making it hard to see. He could make out the shape of the riggings and the pirates moving around, no doubt getting ready to set sail again. Arnold guessed that he had perhaps no more than half an hour to escape before they were ready to set sail.

"Keep moving!"

Harold shoved him through a door that led below deck. More lamps were lit and once Arnold's eyes adjusted he could make out a long hallway lined with doors. Another shove propelled him forward and with Harold's meaty hand on his shoulder, he was forced to walk.

"I'm hungry!" Harold complained. "I don't understand why I had to help with the raid. I need to get started with dinner."

"Order's orders." His friend began whistling cheerfully.

Arnold remained silent. He had to focus all of his energy with thinking up a plan. He couldn't let his mind wonder or else he would see Gerald crumbled on the ground. Or his home up in flames, his household scattered in terror. Instead he tried to memorize where they were leading him. Down two flights of stairs, around the left, down the right, a final set of stairs and a long hallway lined with cells with bars instead of doors. They stopped in front of one them while Harold transferred him to the other pirate and brought out a set of keys.

 _Keys!_

The pirate holding him began singing low, under his breath. _"Lady, running down to riptide/ Taken away to the to the dark side/ I wanna be your left hand man."_

"Got it!" Harold opened the cell and shoved Arnold inside. The keys were replaced by his side. Arnold saw what might be his only opportunity and rammed Harold head first in the stomach.

"Ooof!"

They feel into a heap and the keys clattered to the floor. Arnold quickly rolled to the side to cover them with his body before either of the pirates noticed. Harold clumsily got his feet, his face red with anger and embarrassment.

"Why you little punk! I ought to pound you for that!" Harold reared back his foot and kicked Arnold in the gut.

Arnold's stomach heaved and his cry of pain was stifled by him struggling not to vomit.

"Easy, my friend easy." Harold's friend laughed in amusement and put a restraining hand on his shoulder, "don't damage the merchandise."

Harold gave Arnold another glare before the two of them exited the cell and slammed the bars shut. Arnold waited, breathing heavily, for their footsteps to disappear down the hallway. He knew he couldn't wait long though and stood up on trembling legs. How long did he have now? Minutes? Depending on the wind and the currents, he didn't know if he would be able to row back to shore if they set sail. After waiting another few precious seconds, Arnold bent down and picked up the keys. He didn't bother to wonder why they hadn't tied him up, he just reached between the bars with the keys in hand and fitted it into the lock. For a minute, he didn't think it would take. But after a few moments of working, the lock finally clicked.

Arnold slide opened the door and cautiously peeked down the hall. The coast was clear. Not another pirate in sight. Little noise either except for the slight rocking and swaying of the ship. His legs still felt wobbly but he crept down the hallway. He had no weapon, not that he had a lot of combat training anyway, so he didn't know what would happen if he came across one of the pirates.

It was in the final to last hallway that he suddenly heard it. The sound, almost foreign amongst the creepy groaning of the ship, caught his attention immediately. Humming, soft and melodic humming. Arnold knew he only had precious minutes, but…

Arnold walked forward slowly feeling himself being drawn to the singing. He passed several closed doors before he came to one that was open. Arnold slowed his steps until he could peek into the doorway. And his heart immediately stopped.

Sitting on the windowsill was a girl. Her soft blonde hair fell messily over her shoulders, a section of it held back in a ponytail with a tattered pink ribbon. The matching pink dress she was wearing looked like it had once been elegant but hard wear had reduced it to nearly bare threads. Her profile was delicate with a sloping nose and gently curving lips. As she hummed she wrote in a leather bound book, so content that she didn't seem to know he was there.

Arnold felt his stomach clench. How cruel and blood thirst must these pirates be to hold a poor, beautiful girl like this captive for who knows how long? Well, there was no way he was going to leave her behind. With his mind made up, Arnold stepped into the room. The wood creaked under his foot and the girl jumped up with a gasp, her impossibly bright blue eyes staring wide at him in surprise.

"W-who the hell are you!? Where did you come from?"

"Don't be afraid," Arnold held out his hand in a gesture of friendship, "I'm going to help you get out of here."

The girl bit her lip and eyed him warily. Footsteps sounded close by and he tensed. The girl made a move forward and that's when Arnold spotted it. An unsheathed sword leaning against a dresser nearby. Arnold quickly grabbed it and the reached forward and grabbed the girl's hand.

"Come on," He gave her a gentle smile and felt a small thread of bravery, "I promise I'll get you out of here."

The girl glanced at the sword in his hand and nodded, "Okay."

Trying to be as quiet as possible they crept out of the room, his hand tightly gripping hers. He expected her hands to feel soft and delicate like the rest of her features, so he was surprised when he felt rough callouses. Again his stomach clenched. How hard did they work this poor girl?

"How did you escape exactly?" The girl questioned.

"I made one of the pirates drop the keys and I took them without them noticing."

"Which pirates?"

"What?"

He glanced at her and was surprised to see the intense, serious glint in her eyes.

"Which. Pirates. Were. They?" She repeated slowly.

"Um… one was kinda small, black hair, red leather frames on his face. The other was bigger. I think his name was Harold or something. But why does it matter?"

"No reason. Just asking."

They were silent after that, trying to stay hidden and navigate through the dim halls.

"We're almost at the top," He turned his head to give her his best reassuring smile. "Don't worry I won't let anything happen to you."

The girl said nothing, but her lips slowly curled into a small smile. Arnold felt a weird fluttery feeling in his chest and faced forward again. Finally, they made it to the top deck. The pirates seemed to be too busy still preparing to set sail to notice them. Arnold spotted now put up life boats that he had been brought here on.

"There!" Arnold gestured with the sword, "We can snag a boat and row to shore. Come on!"

He started to pull her forward, but she pulled him back.

"No, this way!" The girl gestured to the opposite side of the ship, "There are more boats on the other side, and this way they won't see us leave."

Arnold hesitated for a brief moment but then nodded. He tightened his grip on her hand and ran with her to the other side of the ship.

"Where are they?" He asked.

"On the other side of those crates."

"Got it!" Arnold rounded the crates and immediately froze.

There were no other boats. Instead, there were pirates. A group of them, Harold and Arnold's other captor included, standing around drinking and smoking. They immediately spotted them and Arnold knew there was no other option. He had to fight. If he couldn't make it out, then at least he could make sure she did.

"Get behind me," Arnold immediately pushed the girl behind him and lifted the sword. "I'll fight them off as long as I can and then you have to run. Okay?"

The girl said nothing and Arnold finally noticed that the other pirates weren't saying much either. Then, there was the whisper of metal being unsheathed and Arnold felt something cold press against the underside of his jaw.

"Drop the sword," the girl practically cooed in his ear.

"W-what?" Arnold started to turn his head but the metal bit into his flesh and a warm bead of blood rolled down his neck.

"Don't make me repeat myself." The girl's voice held a hint of amusement.

Arnold felt confused but immediately obeyed, letting the sword fall from his hand. The girl slowly moved in front of him. Her lips were curled into a smirk. Behind her, Arnold could see the pirates practically cowering in fear.

Harold licked his lips and tried to speak, "H-Helga, I-"

"Can it fat boy!" Helga growled but her gaze never left Arnold's face. Her voice softened again. "While I have to admit I'm flattered you tried to _rescue_ me. I'm a bit offended you thought I needed saving in the first place. It's because I'm a girl isn't it?"

"You- But you're-" Arnold stared at her still feeling twisted inside. "I don't understand."

Helga giggled, almost sounding sweet for a moment. But then a dangerous glint came into her eyes. "You poor dense boy."

Helga re-sheathed her dagger but then her fist shot out and connected with Arnold's stomach. The breath left his body and he fell to his knees with a grunt of pain. Helga knelt down and tilted his head up, forcing him to look at her. Her smile grew as she leaned forward until her lips brushed against his ear.

"This is my ship you're on."

 **A/N- One of many of my favorite chapters to write. Please review and tell me your thoughts**


	4. Chapter 3

_His mother was crying. Deep sobs racked her body as her hands overflowed with torrents of tears. His father stood stone still, his eyes deep-set and red from silent weeping. Gerald's own chest felt heavy, like his heart wanted to sink deep down into his stomach and never get up again. But he refused to let himself cry. He had to be tough like his brother would have wanted him to be. The steel gray ocean in front of him was foreign and unfriendly. But Gerald wasn't afraid of it or the pirates who called it home. He balled up his fist and felt rage course through his nine-year-old body. He was going to kill them. He was going to kill them all._

A cold deluge of water slapped Gerald back into consciousness. He sat up, sputtering and gasping for breath. When his vision finally came back into focus, he saw Sid and Stinky looming over him, their faces dirty and bruised.

"H-How many dead?" He croaked, his throat feeling thick and raw.

Sid and Stinky exchanged swift glances. "Not…many. There was a lot of fires, though. And Governor Arnold-"

"Arnold!"

Forgetting all sense of formality and only remembering their long-standing friendship, Gerald jumped up and desperately looked around. Hazy sunlight fell upon the smoldering town that was once Port Hillwood. People limped around trying to recover their goods, repair damages, and several officers were trying to assess their loss. But Gerald's eyes focused on the empty horizon. No sign of a ship or sail. Forgoing his pounding head and aching limbs, Gerald strode towards the docks and naval headquarters. Sid and Stinky hesitated a moment before obediently following behind him.

"Sir?"

"We're getting a ship and going after them," Gerald said through gritted teeth, "It'll be a cold day in hell before I let another pirate take my family."

"Wilikers," Stinky breathed in astonishment, but Gerald hardly heard him. Nothing was going to stop him from saving his best friend.

By the time, they reached the port, more service men had gathered around awaiting orders. Gerald gestured for Sid and Stinky to stay back while he pushed his way to the front. He spotted his superior, Lieutenant Commander Smithers talking with two other Lieutenants. Gerald briskly walked up to them and saluted.

"Midshipman Gerald Johanssan reporting on the incident last night, sir!" He declared.

His Lieutenant returned his salute wearily, "Go ahead Johanssan, but we have the situation all detailed for now."

"Sir, Governor Arnold was taken prisoner last night. I request a ship and a small crew to conduct a rescue immediately."

To his dismay, the lieutenants merely looked at each other, small frowns on their faces. That's when Gerald glanced behind them and for the first time noticed that several of their ships had been heavily damaged. They were barely staying afloat, smoke still wafted from various places.

But Gerald was persistent, "Sir, there are still a few ships left. All I need is-"

"I'm afraid it's out of the question, Johanssan," Smithers looked at him with some amount of sympathy, "But if they took Sir Shortman captive, we can be sure that he's still alive for a while yet. We'll wait for Commodore Basset before proceeding further. He was supposed to be here yesterday but met with a temporary delay."

Gerald opened his mouth to argue but his lieutenant made a gesture to silence him. Years of strict military obedience temporarily stilled his tongue, but it couldn't hold him back for long.

"Lieutenant Commander, please-" Gerald started but a shout at the docks cut him off. Pulling into port was a large ornate navy ship, decorated with several royal standards. Behind it, a small fleet of less decorated ships was pulling in. All men snapped into attention as the gangplank of the largest vessel lowered and several men lined up, making an aisle. Everyone went silent as a figure began to descend. The man was tall and lean, an air of aristocratic importance blanketed him like the fine uniform he was wearing. His face was set in an indifferent expression and not a single hair on his tightly curled wig was out of place. Gerald felt his stomach clench. He never saw him in person, but he would know Commodore Gabriel Bassett anywhere. The Commodore of fleet 118 took his time walking down the gangplank, his cold gray eyes taking note of the state of the docks around him.

"It seems my visit has been preceded by trouble?" Commodore Bassett took before the lieutenants and barely raised an eyebrow. When he spoke, his voice held unquestionable authority and yet didn't rise above a polite, grave tone.

"Pirates," Lieutenant Smithers gave an indignant sniff, "they came upon us in the dead of night and attack. The body count isn't high but the property damage is significant. They also abducted our governor, Baronet Arnold Shortman. We have reason to believe they're holding him for ransom, but we haven't had confirmation yet."

Commodore Bassett nodded but didn't seem all that impressed or anxious that Port Hillwood had been ransacked or their governor was taken. At his lack of response, Gerald lost the last bit of his self-control and boldly stepped forward.

"Commodore Bassett, Midshipman Gerald Johanssan requesting permission to speak, sir!"

The lieutenants gave him a look of annoyance, but surprisingly the Commodore motioned for him to continue.

"Sir," Gerald had to pause to get a grip on his emotions before speaking, "sir, our governor is essential to the survival and flourishment of this port. We cannot allow harm to come to Sir Shortman at the hands of some grotesque pirates. So, I humbly request and volunteer to take a small ship and a small crew to rescue him."

Feeling a little breathless, Gerald held his salute and

waited for Commodore Bassett to respond. The commodore barely moved but his cold gray eyes suddenly began to show life, assessing Gerald thoroughly.

"A young man eager to rid the world of one less pirate crew I see," Commodore Bassett held out his hand and wordlessly a steward handed him a stack of paper held together by two pieces of stiff, flat leather, "However, according to these monthly reports sent over the last five years, Port Hillwood has been steadily on the decline. And I see that the damage done last night has not rectified the matter of this port's, ahem, financial stability."

He slammed the reports shut and handed them back to the steward, "So I'm afraid we must assess the damage done to the artillery and the ships before we launch a full-scale retaliation. Lieutenant, how soon-"

"Retaliation? But sir wait," Gerald's confusion made him forget strict military code of conduct and he cut him off, earning a cold stare, "Sir, I believe that rescuing Arn- I mean, Sir Shortman should take priority over a full-scale retaliation. There could be a risk of him being killed or injured in the crossfire."

Commodore Bassett responded with barely a flicker of emotion in his steely eyes, "A tragedy, but it would be the cost of ridding the sea of one more crew of blasted pirates."

* * *

Well, this really bites," Stinky mumbled.

Sid nodded in agreement but Gerald barely glanced at them. He was walking fast, trying not to break into a run or punch the nearest person in sight. Anger boiled near the surface, but breathing deeply tempered it down again. He had to think, had to think about what to do next. A part of him agreed with Commodore Bassett. Hell, if it had been anyone but Arnold he would have made the same call to just obliterate the entire ship full of pirates. But it was Arnold. His best friend since they knew what friendship was.

"Too bad we can't just buy our own ship," Sid grumbled quietly, "I'd like the commodore to say no to us then."

Stinky hummed, taking this into consideration, "What if we rent one? I got some silver pieces I've been saving up for a rainy day."

"Get real man," Sid scoffed, "It would take a lot more than a couple of crummy silver pieces to rent a boat big enough to catch up to pirate ship. It would take-"

"A fortune," Gerald suddenly straightened up and spun around to face them, "And I think I know who has a fortune to spend."

Gerald quickly waved down a passing carriage and commandeered a ride back to Arnold's mansion with Sid and Stinky. The house was still disorganized from last night's chaos. Smoke still wafted from several holes in the walls and roof. More than one window had been blown out. Servants and soldiers attempted to sort through the smoldering rubble. A little away from them several large carriages were being loaded with luggage. Even from a distance, Gerald could spot the fine clothes and the glittering jewels of the Lloyds. To his surprise, though, when Rhonda spotted them, she immediately hurried over to them, concern all over features.

"Mr. Johanssan," Rhonda paused to give a small curtsy, "Sir Arnold-"

"Taken," Gerald hopped out of the carriage and took her hands in his, "He was taken last night."

Rhonda nodded, her lips thinning, "I know. He, he gave himself up to shield my family and I. It would have been us taken hostage if it wasn't for him."

Gerald wasn't surprised in the least. Even for a family he barely knew Arnold would give himself up if it meant saving someone else. But Rhonda looked completely caught off guard, she had to take a deep breath to gain her composure before speaking again.

"Mr. Johanssan," She said looking at him with dark but clear eyes, "my time with Sir Arnold was not long and while there was little affection between us, my family and I owe him our lives. What can I do to help him?"

Gerald took her hands in his, ignoring the formalities of their distant stations, "Lady Rhonda, to put it plainly, we need money to hire a ship and crew. Commodore Gabriel Bassett of won't allow us to take a ship to rescue Arnold. He wants to launch a full assault on the pirates despite the risk to his safety."

"Is that so?" Rhonda's eyes suddenly sparked with anger, "I know Commodore Bassett. Both his ambition for higher position and his hatred for pirates runs deep. But I might know how to get you what you need."

She gestured Gerald to follow her while he gestured for Sid and Stinky to stay back. Following Rhonda to her parents, he offered Lord and Lady Lloyd a deep bow which they returned with a stiff nod.

"Daddy," Rhonda started, "Sir Arnold has been taken by those dreadful pirates. Mr. Johanssan can bring him back but he needs our help to do so. Please, he saved our lives, we must help him any way we can."

Lord Lloyd exchanged a glance with his wife and put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "We will petition for his speedy release. I'm sorry dear but that's the most we can do."

Gerald's jaw dropped in shock and indignation, and he started to respond when Rhonda held up her hand to silence him.

"Daddy," she said in a different tone, "I'm afraid a petition isn't enough."

"And I'm afraid this port isn't suitable enough for you to live darling," Lord Lloyd responded gently, "a pirate attack! And you see how unprepared their forces were."

Gerald felt the insult personally even as he felt the same way last night. Rhonda though was still working her way with her father.

"Father, we must assist in Arnold's rescue," She lowered her eyes and an embarrassed smile graced her lips as her hand gently landed on her stomach, "as _soon_ as possible."

Gerald frowned in confusion but Lord and Lady Lloyd visibly tensed.

"D-darling," Lady Lloyd whispered, "what on earth are you talking about? You two only met last night."

"Mother, we thought we were to be married. I know it is early days yet but," Rhonda lifted her eyes to meet theirs defiantly, "you never know. It might be safer not to take the risk of waiting too long."

Gerald flushed when he realized what Rhonda was doing. Threatening her parents with the scandal of potential pregnancy to get Arnold back as fast as possible. Knowing Arnold, he doubted it was true. But judging by how pale Lord and Lady Lloyd were, it was clear they didn't want to take the chance and have their daughter showing with no husband or ring on her finger.

"Lord Lloyd, Lady Lloyd," Gerald said stepping forward, "If you give me the money for a ship and a crew I can rescue Arnold in a matter of weeks. The rest can be, erm, sorted out later."

Lord Lloyd turned his dark gaze to him and nodded, "Consider it done then."

 **A/N- I know this is shorter than some of the other chapters but it serves to get the ball rolling again. Thank you guys for being so patient with me. You all are the best and I hope you continue to enjoy this story. :)**


	5. Chapter 4

Arnold felt his stomach lurch with the prominent bobbing and swaying of the ship. His head throbbed and his limbs ached something fierce. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of vomiting or groaning in pain. He sat on the bench in his cell trying to take deep steadying breaths despite the pungent smell of mold. Despite his yearning for the sea and adventure, Arnold hadn't been on a ship in years. Before his parents' disappearance, he had been deemed too young. After their disappearance, his need to take care of his grandparents and then Port Hillwood superseded everything else.

Arnold hadn't realized how dark ships were. The cell he was in had no porthole and the lanterns on the wall in the hall had died down, leaving him in almost total darkness. He had no idea what time it was, if it was day or night, or even how far out to sea they were. Panic was close but hadn't completely seized him yet.

Deep breath in, Deep breath out. Deep breath in, Deep breath out.

Arnold tried to focus on keeping his stomach still, instead of replaying the past few hours. How many innocent lives had been taken by those blasted pirates?

Deep breath in, Deep breath out.

Arnold shuddered and felt bile rise in his throat. How many of neighbors and friends had they killed? How many homes and lives had they destroyed for their own selfish gains?

Deep breath in, Deep breath out.

What Gerald okay? Had they killed him? If Arnold hadn't distracted him, would Gerald have gotten away?

Deep breath in, Deep breath out.

Arnold shook his head to try and clear it but ended up hissing in pain. His neck still stung from her cut, which made his brain hurt from remembering her betrayal.

" _It's because I'm a girl, isn't it?"_ She had said.

 _No, it's because you seemed so… innocent… and gentle._ Arnold thought bitterly. _Why would I expect someone as beautiful as you to be so cruel?_

Deep breath in, Deep breath out. Deep breath in, Deep breath out. Deep breath in, Deep breath in. Deep breath out, Deep breath out. Deep breath in, Deep breath in. Deep breath out, Deep breath out. Deep brea-

Arnold suddenly stopped breathing altogether when he realized there had been an additional set of heavy breathing. Holding his own breath, Arnold went rigid and waited. At first, he was met with silence. But then-

 _Raspy Breath in, Raspy Breath out._

Flames suddenly lit up the darkness and a ghostly face appeared inches from his own. "Uh… hi…."

"GAAH!" Arnold screamed and fell off the bench.

The ghost gave a raspy chuckle and the flame grew so it illuminated the room. Arnold blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden change in light. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw that the ghost was just an eight-year-old boy with pale skin and short, pale blond hair. In his hand was a lantern. Coal and tar dusted his ratty clothing. Arnold felt warm embarrassment flood his face and he slowly unclenched his fists.

"Um, hello," Arnold said cautiously, "who are you?"

The boy didn't answer. He just went on breathing and looking at him. Arnold shifted uncomfortably. He looked like an innocent kid but Arnold didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

"Are you… one of them?"

More heavy, rasping breathing, but no answer. Arnold shifted uncomfortably until he spotted the keys at the kid's side. Despite himself, he felt a little bit of hope rising.

"Are you going to let me out?"

"Uhh….no."

Arnold sat back with an annoyed huff and the kid mimicked his posture, not seeming in the least perturbed by Arnold's attitude. After a few moments (which felt like hours) of silently staring at him, the kid reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of fabric. As he unraveled it, though, Arnold could see two dark bread rolls wrapped up inside. His stomach instantly began growling and his mouth watered. Despite the unfamiliar rolling of the ship, Arnold realized that it had been hours since he had last eaten and he was starving.

"Is that…." His mouth watered, "for me?"

"Uh… yes."

The kids held out the bread to him and Arnold barely restrained himself from snatching it out of his hands. He took a large bite, expecting his teeth to sink into warm, soft bread, but gave a startled grunt of pain when it felt like wood instead. He took a moment to examine it to make sure it really wasn't wood before biting into it again, slowly. This time the crust made a satisfying crunch as his teeth finally got through. And while the bread inside wasn't exactly soft or fluffy, it did have a startling, complex flavor to it. Unlike the soft, bland whiter rolls he was used to at home that was more air than sustenance. Arnold wolfed the first roll down hungrily and was just biting into the second one when an angry shout echoed from down the hall outside.

"Where are you, ya little creep!? I know you're down here somewhere!"

The yelling was closely followed by thunderous footsteps that came closer and closer to the cell.

"Uh… uh-oh."

Without another word the kid blew out the lantern and scurried under the bench. Moments later an extremely irate looking Harold loomed at the bars of the cell door, his face scarlet with rage. He held his own lantern up to examine the room and his face contorted when he spotted Arnold.

"Aha!" He yelled pointing at Arnold, "I knew that little thief stole from my kitchen!"

Arnold started choking on the bread that was still in his mouth. He stood up and took a defensive pose as Harold opened the cell and strode over to him. Up close he noticed that Harold was now sporting a black eye. Arnold began to stammer, feeling his stomach clench in fear.

"Um, I-I-"

Harold cut him off by clamping his meaty fist around the front of Arnold's shirt and lifting him off the ground.

"Where is he!?" He shouted, showering Arnold's face with spit, "Where is that little creepy cabin boy? I know he's here somewhere."

Arnold didn't need to guess who exactly Harold was talking about. The smartest thing to do considering the situation would be to give up the kid and avoid Harold's rage. For all he knew the kid might be a skilled fighter if he was on board a pirate ship. Shoot, for all he knew the kid had given Harold the black eye. Regardless, the stubborn, protective side of Arnold just couldn't bring himself to expose him.

"He's- he's not here," Arnold lied, "He just dropped the bread off and left."

Harold narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to decipher if Arnold was lying. Arnold silently prayed that Harold wouldn't hear the kid's heavy breathing and give them both away. But then another sound made even Harold go pale and a chill went down Arnold's spine.

"Oh Haaaaroooold," An eerily calm voice said, "what the hell are you doing?"

Harold went rigid as Helga appeared in the door with a tray in her hands. Her smile was sweet but her eyes were full of fire. One look between Helga and Harold and Arnold could guess where Harold's black eye came from. The kid suddenly shot out from under the bench and ran to Helga. For a fraction of a second, a genuine smile of affection flitted across Helga's features before turning her gaze upon Harold again. Then her smile became chilling.

"H-he was stealing from _my_ kitchen again!" Harold stabbed a finger at the boy hovering behind her, "The kitchen is _my_ territory and its _off limits._ "

"And so's Brian!" Helga shot back, "So if you so much as threaten to put your fat, meaty paws on him again, I'll do more than give you a black eye. _Ca va?"_

Harold's face scrunched up in confusion, "Huh?"

"Ugh," Helga rolled her eyes, "just get out, fat boy."

Harold dropped Arnold unceremoniously to the floor and stomped out of the cell. Once he was out of the room Helga's icy blue eyes turned to Arnold. His muscles tensed but he stared her down from his position on the floor. He refused to be intimidated by her, even as his heart quaked in apprehension. She must have sensed it though because her lips curled in a smirk.

"Not so brave and gallant now, are you?" She snickered, "look at you, you're practically trembling with fear."

Arnold's eyes narrowed and he felt a surge of indignation. The only reason why he was still here because he stupidly tried to save her. And now she was making fun of him for it?

"Aw, am I making you mad?" She continued to giggle, "I'm not hitting a nerve am I?"

"Of course, not," Arnold said tightly, "I would never lose my temper in front of a _delicate young lady,_ such as yourself." His tone was sarcastic, meant to insult her without completely lowering himself to her level.

By the thinning of her lips, he could guess that the sarcasm was not unnoticed. Without a warning, she dropped the tray she was holding, sending it and a bowl of soup clattering to the ground. Arnold jumped up with an exclamation of shock as half of the scalding soup splashed his shirt.

"Whoops," Helga's lips curled back up in a smile, "it seems like the tray was too much for my delicate hands to hold."

Arnold bit his lip to keep in a string of uncouth words from coming out. He took in a deep steadying breath and released it slowly. He offered her a small bow instead.

"I apologize for the inconvenience my presence has brought you, my lady."

Helga's face went several shades of scarlet and her body tensed. Arnold flinched back, expecting her to hit him any second. But then that dangerous, slow smile spread across her face instead.

"Brian," she cooed softly, "go get me a coil of rope."

The kid nodded and scurried off into the dark hallway, leaving Arnold completely alone with her. Any bravery Arnold felt was quickly evaporating. There was something about Helga's smile that was more dangerous than her snarl. The bright gleam in her eyes, the sharp curve of her lips, the intensity of her stare. It all made Arnold shift uncomfortably, picking at his shirt where it was starting to stick to his skin. Finally, curiosity got the best of him.

"How-"

"None of your business." Came her instant reply.

Arnold blinked, "But, I didn't even-"

"Doesn't matter, still not your business."

Arnold's mouth shut in, his lips pursed in annoyance and for an instant, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of amusement in her eyes. The kid, Brain, came back moments later with a coil of rope and a knife, handing them both to Helga.

"Hands," She demanded of Arnold.

He looked between her and the rope suspiciously, "I'm afraid I have to decline…"

"And I don't believe I gave you a choice," Helga's eyes darkened. "Hands. Now."

Reluctantly, measuring the growing anger behind those beautiful blue eyes, Arnold held out both hands to her, palm side down. Helga's smirk returned as she unraveled a length of rope and proceeded to tie it tightly around each of his wrists. He started to make a noise of protest but a swift glance from Helga made him still his tongue. Once the rope was firmly knotted Helga trailed off a length of the rope before cutting it with the knife. She gave a sharp tug and Arnold stumbled forward.

"Now," She smirked, her face uncomfortably close to his own, "let's give you the grand tour."

She pulled him out of the cell like an animal on a tether, making his face burn with indignation and annoyance. Never in his life had Arnold been treated this way, but then again what else could one expect from pirates? Once they reached the top deck Arnold had to shut his eyes at the sudden brightness of the blinding sunlight. Helga relentlessly continued to pull him forward, ignoring the way he was struggling to keep his footing. Slowly though he could crack his eyes open and take in his surroundings.

The sky was a bright blue with scatterings of wispy clouds. Gulls called to each other. The half-furled sails rippled gently with the steady breeze. Despite everything, the kidnapping, the assault on his home, the physical abuse, Arnold's could stop the joy swelling in his heart. The cool breeze in his hair, the taste of salt on his tongue, the warmth of the strong sun on his skin. Before he could stop himself, his lips parted in a smile and a quiet sigh escaped.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Arnold snapped back to attention to find Helga staring at him, her expression unreadable. It was hard to tell if she was mocking him or genuinely interested in his response.

"I've always wanted to sail," he decided to be honest. "Back home, I never got much of a chance. I couldn't afford to."

"Couldn't afford to?" Helga gave an unladylike snort, "You, a governor with a fancy mansion and a whole port to your beck and call, can't afford to sail?"

"That's not what I meant," Arnold huffed, "not all of us can afford to abandon our responsibilities and the people who rely on us to tramp around as an unlawful pirate."

Helga's lips quirked and for a moment he thought that she was going to smile. But instead, she gave a particularly harsh tug on the rope making him stumble again. As they walk Arnold took in the rest of the ship. Pirates in various states of grime were milling around on deck doing various tasks or sitting around drinking. More than one of them snickered at the sight of him being pulled around by Helga, but none of them seemed the least bit surprised.

"Oi!" Helga called to one of them, "Where the hell is Wolfgang?"

"Forecastle last I saw," the man called back, "went looking for his father."

Helga made a noise of displeasure in response and continued tugging Arnold along, heading towards the front of the ship. Her steps were quick and her shoulders tense. He didn't know who this Wolfgang was, but whoever he was Arnold could guess that he was about to be in trouble. Arnold almost felt sorry for him. As the neared the forecastle of the ship, two figures were leaning against the ship's outer railing, waiting by a door.

"Wolfgang!" Helga shouted angrily.

One of the figures peeled himself off the railing and headed over, causing Brian to scurry away. Arnold sucked in a sharp breath when he recognized him as the pirate who had fought Gerald that fateful night. But Wolfgang wasn't even looking at him. Instead, he gave Helga a toothy grin and looked at her in a distinctly ungentlemanly way.

"Hey, beautiful," Wolfgang cooed, "did anyone ever tell you that you look incredibly sexy when you're mad?"

"You, nearly every day," Helga's tone was dry but her cheeks tinged pink, "but I don't have time for bull today. Has anyone decided what we're going to do with him?"

The jerk of her thumb indicated that she was referring to Arnold.

"Hell, if I know," Wolfgang shrugged, "Still waiting for dear old captain dad to decide."

"Wait, you mean, you aren't the captain?" Arnold couldn't help but look at Helga in confusion. "you said this was your ship."

Helga looked at him in annoyance while Wolfgang barked out a laugh.

"She acts like this is her ship!"

"Well if it wasn't for me, we'd all be cramped in that moldy little dingy!"

"You forget who led the charge!?"

"Did you forget who found them!?"

With each yelled statement, Wolfgang and Helga's face became closer and closer. Then, with a wolf-like smile, Wolfgang closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers in a rough kiss.

"Ugh!" Helga jerked back, her face twisted in disgust but her cheeks were red, "You son of a-"

Faster than Arnold could detect Helga dropped the rope, grabbed Wolfgang's shoulders, and kneed him in the crotch. He doubled over with a strangled grunt of pain and when he managed to straighten back up again, he snarled at her.

"Why you-" He roughly grabbed Helga's wrist and yanked her to him, "I outta-"

"Let go of her!" Before Arnold realized what he was doing, he pushed himself in-between them. He fixed Wolfgang with a stern frown, "That is no way you talk to or treat a lady. I insist you let go of her immediately.

Wolfgang snapped his head to glare at Arnold. Using the distraction, Helga stomped her boot heel into Wolfgang's foot and then elbowed him in the ribs, knocking him back. And without missing a beat she grabbed the front of Arnold's shirt and yanked his face to hers.

"Listen here blondie," She spoke in a low, angry voice, "I don't know if you're dense or just plain stupid. But I'm gonna let you in on something. I've been taking care of myself for five years now, so I sure don't need you waltzing in here and trying to do it. Understand?"

Her eyes bore into his own, and he could practically feel the heat of her anger. Arnold knew what the best response was, but something about her temper edged on his own.

"As you wish," He nodded stiffly, "but if you recall, it's your fault I'm still here. My lady."

"Raaarg!" Helga screamed furiously and threw him to the ground. Before Arnold could react, her sword was unsheathed and at his throat.

"What the devil is going on out here!?" A new voice boomed.

Helga stiffened and then slowly pulled her sword away. Arnold looked behind her and saw a large, burly man with a prominent stomach and a curling red beard hanging low to the wide, colorful sash wrapped around his waist. Tuck in one side of his waist was a giant sledged hammer, two pistols were tucked in the front, and the other side held a sword. This couldn't be anyone else but the captain of this ship. He took in the sight of Wolfgang slowly getting to his feet, Arnold still on the ground, and Helga flushed with anger with her sword unsheathed.

"Helga!" The captain barked, "What is the rule regarding weapons on board?"

Helga huffed and re-sheathed her sword. "While on deck, no weapons are to be allowed in fights unless in battle."

The captain nodded and turned to examine Arnold, "Now just who is this young man?"

"Sir," Arnold stood up to face him down the best he could, considering the man easily towered over him, "I baronet Arnold Shortman, governor of Port Hillwood which your crew recently plundered. Now I don't have to remind you that piracy is a treasonous crime punishable by hanging, but if you return me to Port Hillwood, and return any goods you may have stolen, I will show you mercy."

At the end of his speech, all three of them went quiet. Then the captain and Wolfgang burst into laughter while Helga merely shook her head.

"Show us mercy?" The captain thundered, "This puny runt is going to show us mercy? Ha!"

He clapped Arnold hard between the shoulders making him fall over again. Arnold bit his lip and got back to his feet yet again. He was getting very tired with being knocked down and shoved.

"Now," The captain turned Helga and Wolfgang, "who wants to tell me why Governor Shortman is aboard my ship and not the wealthy Lloyd family?"

Helga and Wolfgang shifted uncomfortably and gave each other annoyed looks.

"Blame quartermaster here," Helga gestured at Wolfgang, "He's second in command, it's his fault they screwed up."

"You were the one who was supposed to find out where they were in the first place!" He shot back, "According to Harold and Curly, the family was long gone before we even got there."

"I know they were there, I tracked them for two whole months! They should have looked harder."

"Well maybe your tracking skills were a bit off."

"Well maybe your brains are a bit off!"

"Enough!" The captain thundered and turned to Helga, "What do you mean, 'they should have looked harder'? Where were you?"

Helga looked away. "I was attending to something… important."

"Ah, so it's your fault then."

"What!? No, I-"

"And as punishment, he is your responsibility until I decide otherwise," The captain took hold of the rope still bounding Arnold's wrists and handed the end to her, "Just like that useless cabin boy you just had to bring on."

Helga flushed angrily but didn't argue back. Satisfied, the captain then turned to Arnold.

"For your sake, let's hope your port is willing to pay a handsome ransom for you," he laughed, "Because I don't think she'll treat you as well as she treats him."

"Captain Roth!" Someone called from above them. Looking up, Arnold could see someone in the crow's nest waving to get the captain's attention, "floundering ship off the port bow!"

A look of mild concern crossed the captain's face, "Wolfgang, get the crew ready to board. Helga, secure your captive so he doesn't get away."

Wolfgang nodded and walked away shouting orders to the pirates. Helga grumbled in annoyance and tied the end of Arnold's rope to her belt. Arnold could feel the excitement in the air and an anxious knot began to form in his stomach. Were they about to attack some poor, unsuspecting ship? Was there anything Arnold could do to escape or even warn them? He glanced at the rope holding him to Helga. How tight was that knot exactly?

But before Arnold could decide if he even wanted to try escaping, the ship gave a sudden lurch as it change direction and speed. Barely used to the gentle rocking of the ship, Arnold now completely lost his footing and stumbled into Helga, making them both fall over. Helga cried out as she hit the hard wood, but Arnold landed on something much softer. His face flamed in embarrassment even as he took in the strangely sweet scent.

"You don't even have a second to get off me."

Her voice was deadly seriously and Arnold immediately struggled to get up, but with wrists bound, couldn't push himself up without grabbing something that would get him gutted on the spot. But the problem was solved for him when Helga roughly flipped them around so that she was straddling his waist and pinned down his throat with her hand. One nail traced the cut on his jaw. Arnold went rigid, too afraid to move or even apologize.

"You're lucky I can't kill you yet," She growled, her eyes blazing, "Or they would have to scrub your blood from this deck."

Arnold repressed a shiver and nodded. He knew that now was definitely not the time for sarcasm. Helga smirked at his discomfort and removed herself, roughly yanking him back to his feet. When Arnold was finally able to breathe, he glanced over her shoulder to see that Wolfgang was giving him a nasty look.

The ship shifted again as it pulled up to the floundering ship. Up close the half sunken ship was still smoldering. Pieces of wreckage littered the dark water, tinged with red. A black and green shredded flag drifted in the water. Captain Roth's face was somber as he surveyed the wreckage. Everyone was nearly silent. Arnold wanted more than anything to look away; the last thing he wanted was to witness the brutality of pirates first hand. He didn't want to see them plunder this poor unfortunate ship and possibility take more prisoners or lives. But then Captain Roth said something that surprised him.

"Search for survivors!" He shouted, "take anyone you can onboard. Take care for the injured!"

Several crew members, ropes secured around their waists, rappelled off the sides and masts of the ship, making their way carefully down. There was barely a foot hold for them to stand on. A couple of them slipped and landed in the water. Blood left a pink tint on their clothes. Arnold felt his stomach heave and he dropped to his knees, emptying his stomach over the railing. What he thought was wreckage were also dismembered limbs.

"Dad-er, Captain!" Wolfgang called up, "It's the same as the last three."

Arnold's head started to come up but Helga forced his shoulders down again with her foot.

"Don't look," She warned.

"Why?"

He glanced up at her and saw that her face was grim. "Heads," She whispered, "Wolfgang found heads. The captain, quartermaster, and the first mate. Same as the last three."

Arnold bowed his head again bit his stomach was empty. Eventually Captain Roth realized the ship was lost and gave everyone the signal to come back to the ship. There was a gentle tug on his rope and he looked up to see Helga looking at him. He could have been seeing things, but he could have sworn there was pity in her eyes.

But when she spoke, her words were harsh, "Get up. I'm putting you to work."

She gave his rope another harsh tug and pulled him to his feet. He walked behind her obediently, too weak to argue or put up a fight. She led him to another section of the ship and through a door. Arnold blinked at the sudden change of light, but this room wasn't as dark as below deck. He recognized the room as a kitchen, surprisingly clean but cramped full of food, cookware, a large stove, and a large sink. Harold and the guy Arnold only knew as his other captor were sitting at the table, peeling potatoes and cleaning knives respectively.

"Well look what the felus catus dragged in," the red leather framed pirate smiled as brightly as the knives he was polishing.

"Can it, Curly." Helga said shortly, and shoved Arnold into a chair, "Harold, fix blondie a cup of my special tea. He lost his lunch over the side of the ship."

Harold grumbled in annoyance but did as she asked. Arnold glanced up at Helga feeling a small touch of suspicion and confusion. Was she actually being nice to him or was this a trick? But Helga wasn't laughing or smiling when she sat down next to him and turned her attention to Curly.

" _Vincent est de nouveau en movement,"_ She said in a low voice, _"Tout l'équipage mort et démembré. Signature de Vincent."_

Arnold tensed with shock when he realized that she was speaking in perfect French. Having been trained in several languages since he became governor, he caught the words 'dead', 'dismembered' and the name Vincent.

Curly nodded, " _Ce n'était qu'une question de temps._ _La vipère aime frapper_."

'Matter of time'. 'Viper'….something. Arnold opened his mouth to ask but Harold interrupted him.

"Why do you guy have to talk in that fancy weird language?" He complained, coming back to the table with Arnold's tea, "You know I can't understand that stuff."

Helga cast a swift glance at Arnold before answering him, "We'll hold a conference later. Everything is still need to know only. Now, I brought Lord Governor here to make him useful. After he finishes his tea make him wash those dishes and this time _don't let him escape_."

Her last statement was punctuated with such a fierce glare that Harold and even Curly looked abashed and nodded meekly.

"Good," Helga stood up and gave Arnold one last look before leaving.

Arnold watched her leave and didn't realize how fast his heart was beating until it finally slowed down. He blamed it on the day's excitement and took a tentative sip of the hot, steaming tea. The sweet, sharp of peppermint washed over his tongue and his stomach finally started to settle. He took another, longer sip and glanced up to see Harold and Curly staring at him.

Harold looked mildly annoyed while Curly broke into a huge grin and held out his hand. "Welcome to the good ship Fox Hole."

 **A/N- Helga and Curly's conversation:**

" **Vincent is on the move again. All crew dead and dismembered. Vincent's signature."**

" **It was only a matter of time. The viper loves to strike."**

 **If anyone needs to know, Arnold is 20, Helga is 19, Wolfgang is in his twenties, and Harold and Curly are around 18, 19**


	6. Chapter 5

Arnold repressed a grunt of pain as his vigorous scrubbing left his knuckles raw and sore. A growing pile of clean dishes was stacked neatly on one side while a still large pile of filthy dishes was stacked haphazardly on the other side. His skin was beginning to split from the prolonged submersion in the scalding water. But try as he might, the cast-iron cauldron he was scrubbing would not come clean. After a few more scrubs Arnold had to call it quits and take a break. A small hiss of pain escaped him as he tried to work the feeling back into his hands.

"Oh, stop griping," Harold called over to him, "when I was ten I used to have to wash twice as many dishes. In cold water."

Arnold felt his eyes widen, "You've been trapped here since you were _ten_?"

"Trapped? Who said anything about being trapped?" Harold brandished his ax proudly, "See this ax? My father gave it to me after I worked on my first ship. He was a cook for the ship Mary's Revenge, my grandfather was a cook for the ship Emerald's Booty. I come from a proud family of pirates and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

"But what if you get caught?" Arnold couldn't help but ask, "The punishment for piracy is death by hanging or lifetime imprisonment if you're lucky."

"Who says we'll ever be caught?" Harold puffed out his chest, "did you see what we did to your precious port?"

Arnold narrowed his eyes as Harold began to laugh meanly. Just when he was beginning to think that even pirates had souls…

"You think taking lives is funny?" He asked coldly, "You think destroying homes, hurting people is something to laugh at?"

For a moment, Harold had the decency to slow his laughing and look somewhat abashed. But then he merely waved Arnold off with a grumbled order to get back to the dishes. Arnold obediently re-submerged his hands, hoping the water would cool some. Another pot of hot water was boiling in case it did grow cold, but Arnold wasn't planning to inform Harold when it did. As he continued scrubbing, his mind began to drift. When he was ten, he and his grandparents had just begun to suspect that his parents hadn't just been delayed by rough seas. They still held on to the hope that they could be found. Grandpa Phil and Grandma Gertie had been so full of resolve and drive to bring them home that Arnold couldn't help but believe they would.

" _Private Shortman, fetch me a map!" Gertie ordered grandly, "We'll turn these seas inside and out to find Privateers Miles and Stella!"_

" _Aye, aye grandma!" Arnold saluted her and began going through the drawers for his mother's maps._

 _The door opened and closed in the front hall and his grandpa soon entered the room wearing a triumphant smile on his face._

" _I got it, Pookie!" He shouted, brandishing a leaflet of papers in his hand, "The charter for the ship has been paid and a crew has been hired. Had to use more than one favor and some collateral, but I haven't lost my touch yet."_

" _Excellent, General." Gertie planted her foot on the table and brandish a sword in the air in a grand posture. "Now, let the rescue mission commence!"_

A low rumble broke through Arnold's thoughts. He quickly blinked away the mist in his vision before turning his head to investigate the odd sound. The rumble came again and he realized that it was coming from Harold who was now deeply asleep and snoring. Arnold only shook his head and returned to his task. It was blissfully quiet now.

It took him a long minute to realize his stupidity.

Harold was asleep. No one else was in the room. Which meant no one was watching him. Arnold moved slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible so that he wouldn't wake him. First, he eased his hands from the water, hoping the dishes wouldn't splash or clink against each other. Then he lightly tugged on his wrists, testing the strength of the rope. Temporary disappointment made him purse his lips when the rope held firm. It seemed that submerging it in hot water had done nothing to weaken it. But the end wasn't tied to anything. Arnold continued to move slowly, keeping an eye on the still sleeping Harold. The floor creaked under his footsteps but Arnold knew that the constant creaking of the ship, in general, would cover it. He did make sure to peek through the door's window with caution. As far as he could see, no guard had been posted outside. The closet pirate was scrubbing the floor yards away, his back to the kitchen door.

Arnold eased the door open and waited. He wasn't spotted; there was no immediate shout of alarm. He carefully wedged his body out into the bright sunlight and eased the door shut again. Still, no one noticed. His wrists may have still be bound but his legs weren't. A small triumphant smile graced his lips before he could stop it. They had tried to humiliate him, intimidate him, and yet here he was, on his way to freedom. Absolutely none of the pirates noticed him as he snuck along stacks of crates, barrels, and rigging. The ship was large but cramped with supplies.

And there were the rowboats. Unguarded and waiting. Arnold paused. The rigging looked simple enough and there was no doubt an oar already in the boat, but his wrists were still tied. He vigorously shook his head. It didn't matter, he would figure it out. Leaning on the railing, Arnold looked down at the water below. It swirled and foamed against the side of the ship so the ship was definitely in motion. But maybe there was a chance for him to use the ship's wake to propel his boat away from them and row to shore, any shore, and make his way back home from there. Arnold made up his mind and reached for the rigging.

There was a sudden sharp whistling noise and a dagger suddenly appeared in the railing mere inches from where his hand had been. Arnold jumped back with a cry of fear as a dark chuckle sounded from above him.

"You just never learn, do you?"

Arnold whirled around. The sunlight bounced off the sails and he was blind for a moment before he saw her. She was a dark, lithe shape that descended from the bottom of the foresail and landed gracefully like a dancer. A second dagger glinted in her hand as Helga approached him with a smile on her face. She rose an eyebrow at his silence.

"Why so quiet now?" Her smile grew more dangerous, "You're usually much mouthier."

Knife in hand, a dangerous glint in her eye, Arnold still couldn't help himself. His lips turned up in a smirk, even as his heart pounded in fear.

"I apologize, _my lady_ ," he offered her a small bow, hoping she couldn't smell his fear, "I was just so dazzled by your presence that I was rendered speechless."

To his surprise, a blush appeared on her cheeks and her smiled faltered. And then returned. Arnold swallowed and attempted to take a step back but his back hit the railing.

"Do you really want to leave that badly?" Helga closed the distance between and placed her hands on the railing, boxing him in. "Then leave."

Her face was incredibly close to his, her tone almost seductive. Arnold felt a small shiver go through him and it took him a minute to process her words. Her breath fanned across his lips and almost on reflex his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. The flicker of her eyes told him that she tracked the movement and she stepped back.

"Well?" She asked, her voice still a soft purr, "What are you waiting for? Go."

Arnold hesitated, furrowing his brow, "Are you… serious?"

"Sure. Get out of here."

"Okay…" Arnold stared at her before raising his arms, "Might I ask you to untie these please?"

Helga's eyes glittered and her smile brightened, "Nope."

Arnold felt his jaw drop open and he quickly shut it. Helga continued watching him. He looked at her and cautiously started to reach for the riggings again.

"Uh, uh, uh…" Helga waved her dagger at him, her smile growing larger still, "I'm afraid I can't allow you to take our boat, _Sir Shortman._ It belongs to the Fox Hole."

Arnold released an explosive sigh of frustration, "Well then how do you expect me to escape, _my lady_!?"

Her smile was pure and her eyes were bright, "Swim."

She then began to laugh and it was both the sweetest and the most infuriating sound that Arnold had ever heard. In a moment of sheer insanity, he made a lunge for the dagger in her hand. She sidestepped him easily and clicked her tongue.

"Too slow," Helga shook her head, a smirk on her lips, "no wonder why you got caught."

Arnold felt his face flame in embarrassment and he lunged at her again. Her step was light as she hopped away from him, her smile smug. A low growl of frustration from Arnold only made her laugh again. The next time he lunged, her sidestep was a small controlled twirl; the skirt of her dress brushed against his legs. Arnold quickly found himself out of breath trying to best her while she practically danced around him again and again. He finally gave up, trying to regain his breath without doubling over and looking weak.

"I suspect… that you are…. a dancer…. my lady," he panted between breaths, "Were you taught… before you… became a pirate?"

At once Helga expression became slanted and she glared at him, "What the hell did I tell you about asking things that were none of your business?"

Arnold started, baffled by her sudden change in attitude, "I-I, um… I was just curious."

"Well don't be," Helga re-sheathed her dagger and snatched up his rope. "The next time I catch you trying to escape I'll cut your foot off. And maybe I'll sew those pretty little lips of yours shut too. Curly!"

A nearby barrel popped open and Curly saluted her with a grin. "You bellowed?"

"Get him out of my sight," Helga yanked Arnold over to him and dropped the rope in Curly's hand. "But keep an eye on him or I'm throwing you overboard!"

"Aye, aye!" Curly nodded and saluted her again.

Arnold watched as she walked away, her long hair swinging with each step. His stomach was twisted in uncomfortable knots and he let out a shaky breath. He waited until she was out of earshot before tearing his eyes away from her and turning to Curly.

"Is she always like that?" He asked, "One minute she's laughing, the next minute she's threatening?"

"Ah, the never-ending mysteries of women," Curly shook his head and jumped out of the barrel. "Their secrets are as vast and as dangerous as the sea."

"Yeah, yeah girls are weird, but what about _her?_ " Arnold gestured to Helga's retreating back in exasperation, "She's so…"

"Intoxicating?" Curly suggested wagging his eyebrows teasingly.

"In-infuriating," Arnold licked his dry lips. Her devilish smirk flashed before his mind, but he quickly shook it away. "She's infuriating."

"Ah." Curly gave a light tug on Arnold's rope to start him walking. "No one quite knows that mystery that is mistress Helga. Not I, nor Harold, nor even Wolfgang know her full story."

"But what of her story can you tell me?"

"Only that three years ago she hopped aboard the good ship Fox Hole and has graced us with her boisterous presence ever since."

"Three years huh?" Arnold bit his lip and made a quick calculation in his head. Helga had told him she had been on her own for five years total. With three on the Fox Hole that still left two years unaccounted for. If she wasn't on the Fox Hole, how did she survive? Arnold had never even been on his own before now.

Curly whistled as he started to lead Arnold below deck. When the darkened doorway loomed ahead of him, Arnold's steps faltered. He looked back to give the bright blue sky another longing look before he was enveloped in the stifling darkness again. A flash of bright gold caught his eyes. His gaze traveled to see Helga sitting on the cross-trees of one of the masts watching him. He was once again caught off guard with how pretty she was when she wasn't close enough to scowl at him.

"Come on," Curly chuckled and gently tugged him through the doorway, "you'll have plenty of time to gawk later."

Arnold blushed, "I- I was just looking at the sky."

"Or a pair of sky blue eyes," Curly winked at him in the near darkness.

Arnold's blush darkened but he couldn't find the words to defend himself. They descended a second flight of stairs, Curly walking slowly to make sure Arnold didn't fall. It only added to Arnold's general confusion. This was the same person who bombed his home and probably countless other homes, how was he so nice and friendly now? Or was he just insane?

"What's your story?" He asked bluntly, "I can't seem to figure you out."

Curly gave him a wide amused grin, "Simple my fine fellow. I was bored of a life of wealth and title and chose the excitement of piracy instead."

 _Well, that answers that question_ , Arnold thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The room they entered in was large and long. Square holes lined along one wall, behind them sat cannons. Several pyramids of cannon balls were stacked in several places, spaced out around the cannons. Barrels of gunpowder were grouped away from the windows and sitting on a stool was Brian sifting through some of it.

"Oi, cabin boy, get out of the powder," Curly called out to him, "or mommy Helga will be on my ass as well as Harold's."

Arnold gave a startled gasp even as he felt his heart hiccup, "Helga is his mother!?"

Curly gave a hearty laugh, even going as far to bend over and slap his knee. "Oh, my laughable, gullible governor. That expression of yours is art in itself."

"But, you said-"

"Mother in spirit, my dear governor," Curly led Arnold over to take Brian's place, "The first year our lady Helga was here we boarded and raided a naval vessel. She found little Brian here working as a powder monkey, and adopted him to our cause. And like a fierce mother she has protected him ever since. And she absolutely hates it when he's in the powder room."

Arnold sat down and had to restrain a cough as well. No wonder why Brian was always rasping and wheezing. He vaguely wondered how long Brian spent as a powder monkey. Did he not have any parents? No, Arnold supposed he didn't if Helga felt the need to rescue him in the place.

Without saying a word Brian demonstrated to Arnold how to shift the gun powder to keep it from separating. He then moved to begin polishing cannon balls while Curly cleaned and inspected some pistols. As Arnold sifted his mind began to wander. He was worried about Gerald and Hillwood. He hoped that Captain Roth wouldn't ask too much of a ransom for his release. It could bankrupt and ultimately destroy the port if they tried to comply. He could only hope he could find some way, somehow to escape or jump ship when they made port.

* * *

They worked until the room grew too dark to see in. No lamps were allowed to be lit for fear it could ignite any gun powder residue so their work in the room was over for the time being. Arnold's shirt was now thoroughly dirtied and probably permanently stained. His throat felt raw from the powder residue and lack of water.

"Where are we going now?" Arnold asked as Curly led him to yet another part of the ship.

"My friend, you are about to experience the finest meal on the seven seas. Cuisine de la Fox Hole," Curly announced and through open a set of doors.

The room inside was large with lit lanterns lining the walls. The noise was near deafening with almost all of the pirates inside eating at tables. Again barely any of them glanced at Arnold as he entered pulled in by Curly.

"You going in or are you just going to stand there?"

Arnold jolted as he turned and saw Helga standing behind them. Curly offered her the end of Arnold's rope. "He was as docile as a kitten."

Helga laughed and needlessly gave Arnold's rope a rough yank. "Perfect."

Arnold frowned in annoyance, but then felt his lips twitch up in a smirk, "From what I hear, you are secretly as motherly as a feline, my lady."

Curly choked on a laugh and quickly moved away as Helga shot him an angry look. With a growl, she gave Arnold's rope another rough yank and led him to an unoccupied table. She sat down but wouldn't allow Arnold to. He stood nervously, waiting for her to order him or insult him, but she did neither. She just watched him, the annoyance in her face fading into genuine curiosity.

"Why do you want to get back so badly?" She asked finally, "You don't seem like some of the other money and power obsessed governors and rich guys we ransom."

Honestly, Arnold wasn't surprised. Most governors were born and breed for their positions. He wasn't. But he didn't think his kidnapper and harasser had the right to know that.

"I don't see how that's any of your concern, my lady," He answered stiffly, "You haven't treated me very kindly to encourage familiarity as of late."

Helga chuckled, her eyes twinkling, "You haven't given me a reason to yet."

"How about me trying to save your life?" He said through gritted teeth.

"You mean after you broke into my room and stole my sword?" Helga promptly responded, "by the way, you're avoiding my question."

Arnold huffed and looked away, "I have responsibilities back home."

"A girl?"

"No."

Arnold's reply was instant and caught even himself off guard. Technically speaking, there was a girl back home whose money and family influence he was depending on to save his port. But now, was he even sure he wanted to go through with it? Helga watched him, one of her dark eyebrows raised.

"I take that as a yes?" she asked.

"It's a no," Arnold said firmly, "there is no girl waiting for me. But there is an entire port who depend on me."

Helga's smile became sardonic, "Poor you."

"Poor them," Arnold corrected her swiftly, "Would I love to do nothing more but to sail around? Of course, I would! But I can't okay? Their jobs, their homes, and their lively hoods depend on me and you all are keeping me against my will. Which is why I keep asking you again and again to release me."

Arnold felt himself shaking and realized that he was breathing heavily. He also realized that somehow during his low-voiced, rapid rant that his face had become incredibly close to hers. His common sense desperately screamed for him to move but his body was frozen. Helga stared at him unflinchingly, seemingly unbothered by his close proximity. For a fleeting moment, as her impossibly blue eyes stared into his, Arnold felt like she could see through him, see his soul and the very core of his being. When she spoke, her warm breath fanned across his lips and he could vaguely taste something sweet.

"Again," she whispered, "poor you."

A sudden heat broke out all over Arnold's body and he forced himself to take a step back before he did something he would regret. What specifically he couldn't say. Helga's smile grew and she opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted.

"The next time you guys are late for dinner, I'm letting your food get cold," Harold declared as he came by their table to drop off two plates of stew with two rolls, and two mugs, "I make my food hot for a reason you know."

"Yeah, yeah fattie I got it," Helga waved him off impatiently and gestured to Arnold. "Sit." She ordered.

Arnold did so obediently and eyed the food. A week ago he would have gawked at the idea of eating a meal cooked by a pirate, but now he was starving. But when he started to reach for his spoon, Helga gave a sharp tug on his spoon to stop him.

"Uh, uh, uh," She smirked, "I think I… want you to feed me."

"Wait!?" Arnold jumped and nearly fell out of his seat. "Wh-why?"

Her smirk turned into a grin, "Because I own you, _sir_."

Arnold's face flamed as he stared at her, hoping that she was just kidding. But the familiar wicked gleam in her eyes told him she wasn't. He narrowed his eyes and grab her spoon. Taking his sweet time to hopefully annoy her, he scooped up some stew. She gave a sharp tug on his rope, pulling his hands and the spoon to her mouth. Her lips parted slowly and Arnold had to repress a strange shiver that came out of nowhere. He quickly shoved the spoonful of stew into her mouth.

"Good boy," Helga chuckled with her mouth full, "Curly's right, you have become docile."

A low growl built in the back of Arnold's throat. For a moment he fantasized about taking the next spoonful of stew and dumping it in her lap, but he better than that.

"I live to serve, _my lady_ ," He remarked instead, feeding her another spoonful.

"Everyone but yourself so you've told me," She giggled, "admit it, we're doing you a favor holding you hostage."

Arnold's instant denial never made it past his lips. His nerves were too on edge for him to think straight. Helga pulled on his rope again to get another spoonful of stew.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Wolfgang's voice was tight and angry as he came over and sat down throwing an annoyed glare at Arnold. He draped a heavy arm around Helga's shoulder and drew her into his side.

"None of your business," Helga grumbled but didn't move away from him.

Arnold swallowed and forced down a sudden surge of anger. He wanted to move away, but Helga kept a tight grip on his rope. She didn't have him feed her anymore, though. She did allow him to sit down and eat his own food. But he found himself without much of an appetite as he watched them. Their heads were close together as Wolfgang spoke in a low rapid voice, Helga's responses were equally quiet. The stew felt thick in Arnold's throat as he watched them. But suddenly whatever Wolfgang said must have angered her because she suddenly stood up.

"I swear Wolfgang, you never change!" She exclaimed in anger and tugged on Arnold's rope forcing him to stand. "I'm going to bed. Follow me and I'll castrate you."

She strode out of the room, pulling Arnold forcefully behind her. He glanced back at but Wolfgang was already moving to another table.

"Lover's spat?" He couldn't help but ask once they were out of the room.

"Ha!" Helga barked, "hardly. Not that it's any of your business."

Arnold rose an eyebrow, not really sure he believed her, not sure if or why he cared. Helga seemed more annoyed by Wolfgang than anything, but then she seemed annoyed at everyone except for Brian. Speaking of which, there was a rasping, breathing noise and Brian was suddenly walking beside them. Helga led them below deck to a room. She opened it and ushered Arnold inside, Brain following after him.

"You're bunking with Brian tonight," She explained, gesturing to two cots, "you make any trouble for him, or try escaping again, it's your ass."

She closed the door behind her, and Arnold heard the click of the lock. Brian didn't seem too concerned about being locked in, though. He grabbed Arnold's hand and led him over to the cots. Arnold took a minute to look around the room. Two cots, that didn't look too uncomfortable, a small dresser, a couple of crates, and a porthole allowing the cool moonlight into the room.

Brain clamored into one of the bed and nestled down. Within minutes he was snoring softly. Arnold felt a sudden exhaustion that makes his limbs tremble. Working the best he could with his wrists still tied, he took off his boots, his socks, and his shirt. The blanket was rough but it was warm. The pillow wasn't exactly soft but it wasn't stone either. Arnold laid his weary body down, hoping that sleep would come soon. The ship's gentle swaying rocked him to sleep.

* * *

Arnold didn't know what woke him, a sudden sound or a rough wave, but he was awake. His bleary eyes took a while to focus and he felt disoriented. When he was more aware, his heart sank when he realized that he was still onboard the ship, it hadn't just been a nightmare. The sound of voices reached him and he sat up. The voices were quiet, hushed. Arnold looked around in confusion, but the room was empty. Brian wasn't in his bed. For a minute, Arnold wondered if Brian had a second key and let himself out. But then he spotted a crate that looked like it had been moved and a square piece of wood placed in front of an opening against the wall.

Curiosity got the best of Arnold. He crept out of bed and headed for the wall where the voices were coming from. The wall here was actually much thinner than he first suspected. The voices were clearer now and becoming more distinct.

 _"The golden sun sparkles off golden tuffs of your cornflower hair,"_ A soft voice said.

 _"The ugh… g-golden sun… ugh…spa- ugh-spa…"_ the second voice sputtered.

 _"Spar-kles,"_ the first voice-prompted gently.

 _"Sparkles,"_ the second voice repeated.

Arnold had to know what was going on. He spotted a hole in the wall dividing him and the next room, right above his head. Moving as quietly as he could, Arnold moved the crate over so that he could stand on top of it and reach the hole. What he saw nearly made him fall off.

Helga was sitting the bed with Brian sitting nestled next to her. On her lap was the same leather bound book he saw her with the first night he was on board. Her finger ran across the page as she read, Brain's eyes followed her finger.

"The beautiful emerald of your eyes do stilleth my beating heart," Helga read softly, "Their shimmer rivals that of the sea. It's as if we were meant to be."

"The…ugh…be-beau- the bea…"

"Beau- ti- ful," Helga broke down the word gently.

"Beau- ti- ful," Brian breathed and then yawned.

Helga giggled, "I think that's enough for tonight. Time to go back to sleep okay?"

Brian shook his head but Helga was already standing up. Arnold jumped down from the crate and ran back into the bed. Moments later he heard the door open and footsteps. Helga whispered a soft goodnight to Brian before her footsteps sounded again and the door closed. Arnold let out a slow, careful breath. When he closed his eyes, he found himself replaying Helga's soft voice in his head, letting it lull him back to sleep. His chest felt light, but he didn't know why.

" _The golden sun sparkles off golden tuffs of your cornflower hair_

 _The beautiful emerald of your eyes do stilleth my beating heart_

 _Their shimmer rivals that of the sea. It's as if we were meant to_ _be."_

 **A/N- thank you all so much for reading and reviewing this story. I'm worked especially hard on this chapter and I think it's my new current favorite chapter.**


	7. Chapter 6

The sea stretched before them and the wind filled their sails. Gerald constantly kept the spyglass to his eye, so much so that he was sure it was leaving a mark. He didn't care, though. The constant north-east wind left him feeling confident that they would catch up to Arnold and those damnable pirates soon. It had only been a week since the attack, and the pirates only had a day's head start. The ship that the Lloyds managed to secure (with the help of a hefty bribe and slinging around their name and title), was small but it was fast. Gerald had no clue what would happen when they caught up to the pirates, but he would figure that out later.

"Are we sure we're going in the right direction?" Stinky asked looking decidedly green, "How do we know that we're not going to go careening off the side of the earth?"

Gerald groaned and lowered his spyglass to pinch the bridge of his nose. If only the Lloyds' money could have bought him a better crew. They money may have been able to get them the smallest, undamaged ship left in port, but it couldn't convince the sailors to defy Commodore Bassett's wishes and join Gerald on his rescue mission. So he had only volunteers to rely on. Those volunteers being Sid, Stinky, and a couple of older sailors unfit for regular naval duties.

"We're not going to fall over the edge of the earth," Gerald grumbled finally, "And I know where we're going. The wind hasn't let up or changed direction since we left port."

Stinky scratched his head in confusion, "If that's the case then wouldn't they be going just as fast as we are?"

"Their ship is bigger, but ours is faster. We'll catch up."

"Oh yeah, and what happens if we do catch up!?" Sid suddenly exclaimed, "How are we going to take on a whole shipload of pirates!?"

"I don't know!" Gerald threw up his hands in exasperation. "But we will figure it out when we get there won't we?"

Sid and Stinky exchanged wary glances but nodded and went silent. The other sailors were looking at him oddly as well, probably regretting their decision to volunteer. Immediately, Gerald felt anger rising to the surface.

"Why are you all making that face?" He interrogated, raising an eyebrow, "This is _Arnold Shortman_ we're talking about here. He's done more for this port in the few months he was governor than that old, pompous fossil did his entire life!"

"Governor Reynolds wasn't so bad," An older sailor spoke up hesitantly.

"He was going to cut his losses, shut down Port Hillwood, and line his own pockets," Gerald swiftly reminded him, "It was Arnold who petitioned the crown convincing them to give us another chance. It was him who sold off assets from _his_ mansion, to loan some of _you_ money to keep your businesses open."

"A lot of good that did us," A surly, weathered man muttered, "Most of us are still on the brink of foreclosure. And it's not as if we have any means to pay back those loans."

Gerald stared him down until he withered before him. "At least he tried."

"Governor Arnold does seem like a swell guy," Stinky ventured, "I mean, I only met him once, but he shook my hand and looked me straight in the face when he talked to me. Not a lot of high collar fellas do that."

"Yeah, he's not a bad dude," Sid agreed reluctantly, "And Gerald wouldn't steer us wrong. Continue leading the way, sir." He finished with a salute.

Gerald only felt a little satisfied. In truth, the only thing he could really feel was determination and guilt. The determination to find his best friend, guilt for failing to save him in the first place. Ever since they were children they're always had each other's' backs. Arnold was there for him when his brother died. Gerald was there for him when his parents didn't return. And when his grandparents died, he and Arnold stuck by each other, feeling like they were the only family the other had. Gerald could still remember the day Arnold received the letter that set both of their lives on a new course.

 _"What are you so pale for, man?" Gerald clapped him on the back excitedly, "Do you know what that letter means? All of your financial problems are solved!"_

 _Arnold sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I didn't even know I had a great uncle… what's his name? Jerimiah Lester Sherman III? I didn't even know I had a great uncle named Jerimiah Lester Sherman III."_

 _Gerald gently took the letter from Arnold's hand and flopped back onto the bed to read it. Turns out Jerimiah Lester Sherman III was the second husband of Phil Shortman's only sister. With no other living relative on his side of the family, Jerimiah's baronet title was being inherited to Arnold._

 _"Baronet is still better than, what are we now? A warrant officer wanna be, and … and… what the hell are you doing again?"_

 _Arnold gave him a look, "I'm still looking at my options, which right now are very limited."_

 _"Not anymore they're not," Gerald brandished the letter as evidence, "Think about it, with an inheritance and title comes money. With the money we can hire, no- buy a ship! Leave here, do what we want!"_

 _"We?" Arnold looked over at him, eyebrow raised, "What about you and the royal navy? Are you planning on giving up on that?"_

 _"No, but I don't plan on leaving behind my best friend either."_

 _That brought a small smile to Arnold's face but he still couldn't help but shrug. "I think we're both forgetting about one thing. According to the letter, the stipulation is that I become Governor of this port called Hillwood. If I don't the inheritance is forfeited back to the crown."_

 _Gerald shot back up and peered at the letter with a frown, "They can do that?"_

 _"Apparently," Arnold sighed, "Who are we even kidding? I can't be a governor or a baronet. The only life I've ever known is this one. Without my parents… or my grandparents…"_

 _Arnold's voice trailed off and his eyes became misty. Gerald comforting hand on his shoulder._

 _"Hey," He said softly, "Anything is better than this."_

 _By this, he meant the empty room they were sitting in, the blanket covered mattress they were sitting on. The room had once been Mr. and Mrs. Shortman's master bedroom. It had long been stripped to pay for the numerous rescue missions that had taken place over the years. The rest of the house was in the same shape. Rescue expeditions, Phil and Gertie getting sick… Arnold had tried getting a job, he and Gerald pooled together their meager wages, but the debt only grew larger. Gerald didn't regret single shilling, though. Arnold was the only one left who looked at him without seeing the ghost of his brother. Maybe that's why Arnold felt like more of a family member to him than his own parents these days. His mom could barely look at him in his uniform without tearing up and his father never even said his name anymore._

 _"You're right," Arnold cleared his throat and shook himself, "It's… it's time I moved on with my life. I can't live in an empty house forever."_

 _"Thatta boy," Gerald gave him a one armed hug._

 _"I can probably get you a position in Port Hillwood," Arnold suggested, brightening up a little, "I'm sure I'll have some kind of leverage as a baronet."_

 _"Whatever you need, Governor Shortman," Gerald gave him a mock salute which Arnold returned with one of his own._

 _"At ease, Officer Johanssen."_

"Officer Johanssen, a ship is approaching!" Sid suddenly called out.

Gerald shook himself out of his thoughts and looked in the direction Sin was pointing. He didn't need the spyglass to see a merchant ship heading towards them. Just a merchant ship. The flag was a company he recognized making his jaw clench. This particular vessel often traded with Port Hillwood, but they were also suspected of dealing with and smuggling pirates in other ports.

"Port and hold!" Gerald called back to his meager crew, "Stinky, raise our standard and hold."

"Sir!" The crew saluted him and began working to obey.

Slowly, the ship turned and slowed to merely bobbing in the water. The wind caught their standard and proudly displayed their naval mark. The merchant ship changed direction to come astride of them and slowed down to a stop as well.

"Steady," Gerald spoke to his crew in an undertone as he waved at the ship's captain, "We don't know exactly what we're dealing with yet."

A small row boat lowered from the merchant ship and headed to them. Gerald motioned for ropes to be lowered to anchor the small boat to them and allowed the person on board to come aboard.

"Sir," the man gave a half-hearted salute to Gerald, noticing his uniform, "What can we do for you?"

"We're looking for a ship with this marking." Gerald pulled out a piece of paper with a stylized sketch of a fox on it. "Have you seen it?"

"Hmm," the man stroked his scruffy chin, "I'm not sure, possibly. The sea is awfully big. And there are an awful lot of ships out there. Maybe if I had a bit of incentive…"

Gerald narrowed his eyes and fished out a crown, letting it drop to the deck with an aggravated air. Unabashed, the man scooped up the coin and pocketed it, then pulled out a letter from his jacket.

"We ran across them around two days ago," he confessed, "gave us this letter to take to Port Hillwood."

"Give me that," Gerald snatched the folded sheet of paper out of his hand and examined it. It was held closed with a wax seal that was indeed the fox insignia. It couldn't be anything other than a ransom note. Which meant there was a chance of getting Arnold back without having to engage in a possibly losing fight.

"Take this to Commodore Gabriel Bassett," Gerald ordered, handing the letter back, "And give him this message; 'We will continue to close in on the pirates and attempt to rescue Governor Arnold. But it is highly advisable that we parlay with them for his release.' Can you remember all that?"

"It's my job, sir," the man nodded, pulling on his forelock.

Gerald dismissed him with a wave of his hand and turned back to the bow of the ship. He allowed Sid and Stinky to see the man back to the merchant ship while he felt a small bit of relief. Now they had a plan. While he tracked the pirate's ship the ransom letter would get back to Commodore Bassett, and they could possibly have some backup.

"Hold on Arnold," Gerald whispered to himself, "we're coming for you."

* * *

The merchant ship didn't have far to travel. The commodore and his fleet had long set sail from Port Hillwood, scarcely two days after the so-called rescue ship left port. Commodore Gabriel Bassett couldn't get away from that poor excuse of a port fast enough. His second in command, Captain Douglas, handed came to find him in his stateroom after the merchant ship flagged them down.

"Two letters for you, sir," Captain Douglas saluted him, "As a well as a message from Midshipman Gerald Johanssan."

Gabriel barely glanced up from his maps, not even mildly interested. Night had long since fallen but he was still working. There was no rest for a man like him, a man who was far above these pathetic matters.

"Sir?"

"What's the message?" Gabriel asked, masking his impatience.

"Sir, Midshipman Johanssan informs us that he will continue to close in on the pirates and attempt to rescue Governor Arnold. But he urges us to parley with them for his release. Shall I give you the letters sir?"

Gabriel wordlessly held out his hand for them, finally tearing his eyes away from his work. He first opened the one with the seal of a fox, the seal of the Fox Hole. The letter was simply worded, both the handwriting and the language unrefined, the mark of an uneducated man. The ransom was relatively small but still barely affordable for Port Hillwood. The corner of his lips twitched up in an amused smirk. It was still too much. Captain Douglas waited patiently for his response when a hesitant knock sounded.

"Enter!" He commanded.

The door creaked open and Robert Simmons, a spineless man who insisted on boarding his ship, took a step in the room, rolls of paper under his arm. It was Captain Douglas who insisted on allowing him on board, claiming that he could be useful since he was once captured on board a pirate's ship.

"Commodore sir," Robert saluted him hesitantly, "I-I just saw the merchant ship leave. When I was a sailor they often carried correspondences from other pirate ships. Is there any word regarding Governor Arnold?"

Gabriel looked at him a long moment. He then held the opened letter over the flames of his candelabra. "None that concerns us."

Surprise showed on Captain Douglas's face but he said nothing as the letter started to curl and blacken. When it was half burnt Gabriel dropped it into the ashtray to let it continue to smolder.

"B-but sir," Robert Simmons stuttered.

"Hold your tongue, Simmons," Captain Douglas silenced him quickly.

Robert fell silent but continued to stare at Gabriel with a twisted expression on his face. Gabriel could feel his temper rising and his patience fading. Dealing with people like him was beneath him but circumstances forced him to endure.

"What is it?" He asked shortly, "What else do you have to say, Simmons?"

"I- I noticed something, sir," Simmons pulled out on of the papers he carried under his arm and unrolled it to reveal a map. "I was um, talking to some of the other men, sir, and I noticed something. May I approach?"

Gabriel barely managed to keep his lips from sneering but gestured him forward. Robert scurried over to an unoccupied space on the table and laid out the map. Gabriel felt his mouth tighten in contained fury as he eyed it. Across the map, black x's made a path across the ocean and various ports along with dates. A red line followed almost exactly, also notated with dates, one to two days behind.

"Th-the black x's mark where other pirates have attacked or been attacked," Robert explained, "The red line is the path that your fleet had taken sir. I, um, noticed that there was, um, some resemblance, sir."

"And what exactly are you trying to say, Robert?" Gabriel impatiently snatched the map off the table. "I have no time for this foolishness!"

Robert paled and visibly cowered before him, "S-sir, I-I-I-"

Captain Douglas threw him questions look, so Gabriel tempered his voice to be cool and commanding again. "The captain tells me that you used to sail aboard a pirate ship?"

"N-not quite sir," Robert licked his lips nervously, "I-I was just a common sailor when I was captured-"

"A likely story I'm sure," Gabriel looked at him coldly, suppressing a smirk from coming to the surface, "Captain Douglas, arrest this man on charge of piracy."

"What!?" Robert exclaimed in shock, taking a step back while Captain Douglas stared at him in shock. "B-but sir-"

Gabriel turned cold eyes on Douglas, "Captain, I gave you an order."

Captain Douglas looked unsure but wiped the expression off of his face and obediently grabbed Robert Simmons by the arms. Robert fought, of course, claiming his innocence, but to Gabriel, it wasn't a matter of innocence or guilt. It was a matter of his carefully worked plan coming to fruition. When the captain finally managed to drag out Robert, he opened the second letter, sealed with the insignia of a viper. The hand was much more refined, the language much more polished and sophisticated. A smile curled Commodore Gabriel's lips. Everything indeed was coming to fruition.

Another knocked sounded, and Captain Douglas returned, "Sir?"

"You may enter," Gabriel said carelessly, putting the letter away.

"Sir," Captain Douglas eyed Robert's map briefly before turning back to him, "do we have plans to parlay with the Fox Hole?"

"There's no need, Douglas," Commodore Gabriel showed him an icy smile, "There's no need."


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N- Sorry for the slight hiatus but grad school started again so I've had almost no time to write. Thank you so much for sticking with me and reading this story. Reviews are very much loved and appreciated.**

Every day the sun shone hotly on the deck of the ship, the water lapped at its sides. Half of the sails remain rolled up, allowing the _Fox Hole_ glide across the sea in an almost leisurely pace. The ship barely left a wake despite its size. Both the ocean and the sky seemed endless. The sea was dark cerulean topped with foam mirrored the light royal blue of the sky streaked with wispy clouds. But despite the languid pace of the ship on the water, the ship itself was always bustling with activity. From sun up to well after sun down everyone worked, no one was allowed to slack off. The _Fox Hole_ crew worked in tandem, drunken filthy tandem, to keep the ship going.

Over the past week, Arnold's legs gradually became used to the constant swaying and bobbing of the ship and his stomach no longer attempted to rebel against Harold's cooking. The skin on the bridge of his nose was beginning to flake and peel from prolonged exposure to the direct sunlight. But the most starling change was within himself. He no longer desperately searched for a boat to rescue him or strained his eyes trying to see land on the horizon. Life on the ship was a constant flurry of work and activity, a complete and utter change from his previous life. It had only been a week but it felt as if Arnold had lived multiple lives already. A blissful childhood with a loving family, the cloudy fog of his dull life as governor, and now this. He hated be held here against will, but he loved waking up to the gentle rolling of the ship. His clothes were becoming increasingly grimy but he was no longer suffocated by breeches and vests and buttons. And he couldn't get enough of seeing the endless sky above him, and the rippling waves around him.

There was only one, very annoying problem; Arnold's wrists were still tied. He hadn't made an effort to escape in a while (only due to lack of opportunity), but the rope remained like a crude harness. It was a big laugh for the crew to see Arnold being dragged around like some ill-tempered pet.

Ill-tempered was exactly what Arnold was feeling as he moved the hard-bristled brush across the sudsy wooden planks. He, along with Brian, Edmund, and much older gentleman by the name of Scurvy Murphy had been assigned the duty of scrubbing the decks. Curly was "supervising", juggling cheery bombs while rocking back and forth on a sideways barrel.

"You know," Arnold grumbled eventually, "This task would be a lot easier if my wrists weren't still tied."

Curly shrugged carelessly, "We loosened them yesterday. You're fine."

"They're still pretty restraining!" To demonstrate Arnold stretched his arms out, the rope stopping them about a foot and a half apart.

"Just enough to keep scrubbing the deck."

"Aw, *#$% this *&$# ship's #$*&!," Scurvy Murphy declared, spitting a wad of phlegm onto the deck before scrubbing it. "You know, *!&% &**# the **&#! Hahahaha!"

Scurvy Murphy then began to laugh like he told the world's greatest joke. Curly and Brian chuckled while Arnold gave a tolerant roll of his eyes. The constant swearing and foul language used to shock him at first, but it did no longer. It seemed like the only reverence and respect these pirates had went to two people and two people only. Captain Roth and…

"Curly! Where did you put that map we worked on last night?"

Arnold's fingers reflexively clenched on the brush as soon as he heard her voice. He kept his eyes on the ground and began to scrub harder as she approached them. From the corner of his eye though he saw Helga run an affectionate ran through Brian's hair.

"You know, the map we worked on for Port Emerald's canals," she continued, "I want to head out by sunset so I can be there by night fall."

Arnold's head came up before he could stop himself, "You're leaving?"

Helga looked at him, an eyebrow raised in surprise at his question that sounded plaintive to even his own ears which began to burn in embarrassment. He quickly went back to scrubbing but not before he saw Helga's lips twitch up in a small smirk.

"I shouldn't be gone long," she continued talking to Curly but Arnold knew that the smugness in her voice was directed at him, "I'm just sorry that you'll suffer my absence for a while."

The burning in Arnold's cheeks intensified as Curly laughed, "We'd suffer even without you, my dear."

As her footsteps began to move away, Arnold glanced up one more time to watch her long, blonde hair swing as she strode away from them. It was a wonder how she kept it looking so soft in all this salty air. Arnold quickly shook his head and resumed scrubbing the floor planks with an annoyed frown. Why should he waste time thinking about her? She barely glanced at him unless she wanted to tease him or pass him along to someone else for the day. It was insulting. Not that he wanted to be on this ship in the first place, but now that he was the least she could do was acknowledge his existence. Hell, even Curly and Harold, the kidnappers who got him into this mess, had warmed up to him somewhat. And it didn't help that Arnold was bunking with Brian, which meant that he had to also endure only being a secret witness to her kind and gentle side. Three nights out of the past week he listened to her read, fugitively watched her as she smiled at Brian patiently as she allowed him to nestle beside her. Arnold wasn't jealous or anything, it just made it confusing and exhilarating, erm, exhausting to be around her. When she lowered her standards to be around him that is.

"Alright boys, take a break!" Curly finally declared.

Scurvy Murphy stood up with a groan, mumbling a couple of choice words before breaking into a hardy laugh again. Arnold stood up slowly, feeling his joints creak and stretched his arms above his head, working out the kinks in his spine and shoulders. The wind picked up cooling the humid sweat on his skin. It continued to blow making Arnold smile in relief, but the others didn't seem to be enjoying it.

"Hmm," Curly looked up at one of the rippling sails, "this isn't good."

"I don't know; it feels good to me."

Curly gave him a look of mild amusement, "You really don't know anything about the ocean, do you?"

Another gust of wind blew, strong and hard. The ship gave a sharp jerk in its direction. Arnold stumbled against the railing, looked out over the water, and gasped. The horizon was marred by threatening dark gray clouds. The white foam began to dance as the waves increased. And the wind began to double in strength and ferocity. It had come upon them almost instantly, but a storm was definitely upon them.

A cry came from the crow's nest, "All hands on deck! Storm's a coming!"

The call was picked up and repeated throughout the ship and soon every pirate running around on the deck. Arnold stood unsure and completely out of place as everyone hurried around him. The earlier sense of near freedom had completely vanished. He felt small and insignificant in the midst of the fierce storm. The door to the captain's quarters burst open and Captain Roth began calling out orders, shouting to be heard over the noise of the storm.

"Tie down those barrels! Fasten the crates!" He bellowed, brandishing his axe, "You men, unfurl those sails. Either we beat this wind, or we dine with Davy Jones tonight! YAAAR!"

"YAAAR!" The pirates echoed with almost savage glee.

Arnold couldn't comprehend their vigor. How were they not terrified by the massive waves that tossed the ship like a child's play-thing? As the storm closed in, the warm sun vanished enshrouding them in darkness. Sheets of rain engulfed them, chilling Arnold to the bone as it instantly soaked through his clothing. He felt a tug on his rope and looked down to see Brian pulling at him to get his attention, looking almost as afraid as he was. But wordlessly, Brian led them both to a spot between the walls of the forecastle deck and a few tied down crates. Following Brian's lead, Arnold crouched down with him, both keeping out of the way and bracing them against the storm.

The ship suddenly began to rise as a mammoth wave swelled beneath them. There was a curious, nauseating feeling of weightless as the _Fox Hole_ reached its summit and seemed to hover there for a few breathless moments. And then it plummeted, the ocean yawning open to receive them. A scream tore through Arnold's throat as the ship fell, tilting sideways as if it wanted to toss them into the gaping abyss before it followed suit. But the swell of another waved saved them, knocking the ship upright again right before it landed in the water again. Tons of gallons of salt water washed over the ship nearly carrying off a few pirates.

But still the storm wasn't done with them. Gale force winds whipped the waves into a frenzy, tilting the ship dangerously more than once. Captain Roth roared and the muscles in his already burly arm bulged as he gripped the helm and struggled to regain control of the ship. The men struggled to unfurl the sails, but something among the rigging caught and the larger sails only unfurled a fifth of a way.

"Wolfgang!" Captain Roth roared, "we need those sails open or we'll all go under."

"We're working on it!" Wolfgang shouted back and began direct the others, "Curly, Torvald, get the lower aft sails! Edmund, you're with me on the foresails. Helga, get the main sail!"

"I'm on it!"

A flash of pink swept by his and Brain's hiding spot, making Arnold jump. He squinted to see her through the driving rain. The skirt of her dress had been ripped opened and tied to the side, exposing her boot clad legs. The sunny mass of hair, darkened by the rain, was all tied back into a pony tail with her pink ribbon. A knife glinted between her teeth as she began to climb up the main mast.

"Helga!" He called out her name, not really knowing why, the storm should have swallowed his words.

But she did hear him. Through the blinding torrents of rain and the shrieking gusts of wind, Helga turned her head and her eyes met his. Their gazes held for a brief moment before she looked away first and continued climbing.

"Helga!" Arnold called out her name again, but she was a fast climber, already out of earshot.

The ship continued to battle the stormy waves, but Arnold's earlier fears were dwarfed by growing anguish watching Helga climb the impossibly high mast. He stood up on shaky legs and Brain tried to tug him back down again.

"Stay here," Arnold ordered him and pulled away from his grasp.

He knew there was nothing he could do, but he couldn't help but run to the mast, peering hard through the rain just to keep his eyes on her. Just to keep her in his sights. As it could somehow keep her safe. Helga was a skilled climber though. She maneuvered up the ropes and rigging swiftly, despite the rain and wind doing their best to make her fall. Her feet found holdings among the knots in ropes, but never got tangled. She was completely focused on her task, no fear showing on her face. Instead she was scowling, as if the storm was a mere inconvenience to her. Beneath Arnold's terror, a feeling of admiration was beginning to swell in his heart for this intimidating, fierce woman.

After what seemed liked forever but may have only been minutes, Helga finally reached the cross beam of the sail where a tangle of ropes and rigging held the sail closed. Looping one arm through a spare hanging of rope, she began to cut through the rigging to release the sail. Captain Roth continued to hold the steering wheel in a death grip, struggling to keep the ship balanced and upright. Most of the other sails had been released by now, but they needed the main sail opened to escape the storm's clutches. But despite Captain Roth's powerful grip, the ship continued to lop sideways. It was worse near the top where Helga was still cutting at the rigging. More than once the mast nearly dipped her into the water.

Arnold continued staring up at her, barely noticing the crick forming in his neck. She only had one more knot to cut loose and she could safely come down. The ship would finally escape this storm and he would be able to breathe again.

And that was when he felt it. The wind stirred his hair at the nape of his neck. Arnold broke his gaze from Helga and looked around at the dark clouds above them. The wind and rain were blowing right, if the main sail finally opened it would catch the wind and straighten the ship out. But the hair at the back of his neck was blowing back, left. A few of the clouds were drifting in that direction as well. Arnold didn't know how, the first time he stepped on a ship was last week, but somehow, he knew that the wind was about to change. And when it did, the ship could be overwhelmed and capsize, and Helga would be-

"Turn the ship!" Arnold screamed at Captain Roth, "You have to turn the ship!"

Captain Roth whipped his head to stare at him, "Are you crazy boy!? Stop spouting nonsense and get out of the way!"

"Listen to me; the wind is about to change! If it does and the sail opens, it could capsize the ship! Helga will be thrown off the mast!"

"The wind is always changing during a storm! And what the hell does a milk bred, governor like you know about the sea!?"

Arnold shook his head desperately, refusing to back down, but not knowing how to answer either. "I just do! Please turn the ship- that way!"

Words failing him, he pointed in the direction he knew that would save them. Captain Roth gave him a hard glare for a brief moment, as if he were not quite sure if he believed him or not. But something of Arnold's distress and urgency must have shown in his face because with a loud yell Captain Roth jerked the wheel in the direction Arnold indicated. The _Fox Hole_ seemed to groan with the effort as it began to turn, fighting against the wind.

"Dad, are you crazy!?" Wolfgang yelled, "What the hell are you doing!?"

Arnold barely heard him though. His eyes were already trained on Helga's lithe form again. She was laying sideways on the cross bar, one leg and one arm clinging to the wood as she worked at the last knot to free the sail. But as the ship changed course, the movement seemed to jostle her and she nearly lost her grip.

"No!" Arnold cried out in despair, but Helga clung on, her knife finally cut through the last knot and the sail burst open.

The ship faltered for a moment, but then miraculously, and just as Arnold predicted, the storm's powerful winds suddenly changed directions. The sail snapped open, wide and full, and the _Fox Hole_ righted itself. More than that, it leaped, now racing across the water. It no longer battled the storm, it was propelled by it.

"HAHA! You did it boy!" Captain Roth rewarded Arnold with a triumphant smile and a rough clap on the back, knocking Arnold to his knees. "The _Fox Hole_ triumphs again! YAAAAAR!"

The ship rang out with similar cries of wild triumph, almost rivaling the noise of the storm. Arnold stood up with a weak laugh of relief. His eyes immediately searched out Helga again to see her already repelling down from the mast with the help of rope. The rain was still pouring heavily so he couldn't see her face clearly, but through the thick curtain of gray he could have sworn he saw her smile.

* * *

That night the mess hall was packed and noisier than ever. Caskets of wine and rum were opened and freely distributed. Cries of glee and victorious laughter rung out as the crew celebrated yet another escape from the clutches of death. Even Arnold, the outsider and the captive, was included in the celebration. Seated between Harold and Curly, he listened to their tales of their harrowing feats and tremendous perils with baited breath. He sipped at a wooden chalice of wine while they down rum by the mouthful.

"This storm was nothing!" Harold was slurring and beginning to sway, "I remember the time we got sucked up by a tornado. The _Fox Hole_ got flung clear across the ocean!"

Arnold's eyes widened in shock but Curly made a rude noise with his mouth and rolled his eyes.

"We've faced far worse than that," Curly waved a hand dismissively before downing more rum and wrapping an arm around Arnold's shoulder, "allow me, my wonderful governor, to account to you the tale of how we obliterated the German ship _Sophia's Mercy_. The blazing hull of their ship lit up the night sky. The boom of our cannons could be heard for miles."

"You fight with other pirates?" Arnold asked in genuine surprise, "isn't that against some kind of pirate code?"

Harold snorted but began choking on his drink, leaving Curly to explain, "Only if we have a treaty with them. _Sophia's Mercy_ was trespassing in our waters. They asked for a fight, we gave it to them."

He gave a triumphant, maniacal laugh while Harold continued to snort and choke on rum. Arnold chuckled and shook his head in amusement. The wine was beginning to give him a warm, tingly feeling at the base of his skull but he wasn't nearly as drunk as the others. A table over Captain Roth and Wolfgang were having a drinking contest, chugging large bottles of wine, cheered on by the others. Arnold watched them, feeling a fleeting pang of longing for his own father, but he was unable to stop smiling none the less. Wine dribbled down both of their jaws, but Wolfgang broke first, red faced, sputtering and choking. Captain Roth kept going though, draining the bottle before slamming it against his head and roared. The room went wild. Arnold found himself cheering along with everyone else. His cheers died down though as his gaze went across the room. Somehow, his gaze always found her. Her blue eyes were bright even from across torch lit room. Bright and intense, making the warm tingle spread throughout his body. Helga was standing apart from the other pirates, leaning against the wall, and watching him. Her hair had dried curly, still held back in a ponytail. Arnold raised his cup to her in a small salute. She didn't return it of course, but her lips curved up in a smirk. He couldn't remember if her lips were always that pink or if they were tinted from wine. Arnold's mouth suddenly went dry and his tongue darted out to wet his own lips.

"Let's have some music in the blasted ship!" Captain Roth yelled.

The crew shouted their agreement and from various places in the room, instruments began playing. The music was just as wild and rambunctious as the crew. They stomped their feet, hooted, and clapped to the music. The sound was near deafening, but their drunken joy was contagious. Tables were roughly moved aside to make an impromptu dance floor. Arnold wasn't much of a dancer (Robert had him trained in the waltz), but he set down his cup and clapped along with the music. He entertained himself by watching the others dance. Some danced in pairs, others danced on tables, but the most entertaining was Captain Roth himself. For such a large and drunk man, he was surprisingly quick on his feet. His stomped his large feet in time with the music, dancing a rougher version of a jig. In the middle of his dancing, he thrust a hand out towards Helga.

"Come on lass," he cried out with a laugh, "let's show these sons of wenches how to really dance."

Helga didn't seem the least bit surprise at being called out. Her eyes flickered to Arnold and her amused smirk grew. She set down her drink and made her way to Captain Roth, the crew parting before her. The hooting and catcalling amplified as she took sly, tripping steps towards Captain Roth's outstretched hand. She then broke into a genuine smile when she reached him and clasped his hand in hers. Bellowing out a loud laugh, Captain Roth pulled her into a lively, bouncing two-step dance. The crew cheered them on, and Arnold found himself entranced. Helga's smile was the brightest that he had ever seen. Her blue eyes glittered. Eventually Captain Roth stumbled into a table and fell but Helga continued to dance without him. She twirled and spun around the room, her feet quick and graceful despite her boots.

Laughing, Helga made her way around the room, enticing everyone to dance. No one could resist her. Or they were too drunk to refuse. Even Arnold was beginning to feel a little tipsy. Fleeting images of wrapping his arms around her slim waist flashed before his eyes, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. As beautiful as she was, Helga was still dangerous, and he couldn't forget that.

"What are you doing just standing there my good sir?" Curly crashed into Arnold, reeking of both rum and wine, "Dance the night away with us loathsome pirates."

"N-no I'm good," Arnold laughed politely, "besides, I can't do much dancing with my wrists tied-"

"Wrists, smrists," Curly slurred, "get out there and dance!"

Without warning Curly shoved Arnold hard, making him stumble into the middle of the floor and crash into, of course, Helga. He stared at her in fear as she stared at him in surprise. His heart then began pounding as her lips curved into her signature smirk. She grabbed his rope and yanked him into the middle of the floor. Everyone cheered excitedly, waiting to see what Helga was going to do to him. Helga jerked him to a stop, smiling wickedly down at him as he practically cowered.

"M-my lady-"

Helga suddenly thrust Arnold away, but held on to his rope to keep him from falling. Arnold rocked back on his heels, the pounding in his heart increasing. Laughing, and still holding his rope, Helga began to move. She moved in a large circle, causing Arnold to move in opposition to her. Faster and faster until the room spun around them, and all Arnold could see was Helga in a haze of orange light. Soon, Arnold was laughing. He had danced only once before, and it paled in comparison to now. Everything around him was light and color. He could hardly breathe from laughing. Arnold didn't know if it was the wine, but his head and body felt full of air.

Before he knew what he was doing, Arnold found himself grabbing at his rope, pulling himself closer to Helga as they spun. Helga giggled, her cheeks flushing, but there was a strange glint in her eyes that he didn't know how to interpret. Right before he reached her though, Helga suddenly darted out of his grasp, spinning around him in a tight circle, and brushing his shoulder with hers. Arnold turned around to face her and found her fixing him with a challenging stare. She began dancing again, so close to him that he could spell the scent of her hair. Arnold watched her for a moment before joining her. He moved his feet like her, a bit clumsier, but keeping up all the same. They danced close enough to touch, but the only thing Helga allowed to touch him was the hem of her dress as it flew around her. A dull ache in his chest began to throb as Helga drew close to him only to move away again, or turn her back on him entirely. Finally, Arnold could take it no longer and grabbed her hands in his, relishing the small, nearly inaudible gasp that escaped her lips. Arnold spun her under his hands and dropped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest.

The music kept playing, but it felt like both time and Arnold's heart had stopped. Any courage he had suddenly left him as he stared down into Helga's stunned face. He waited for her anger, her fury, her knife. But instead, something seemed to dull in Helga's eyes and she slipped from under his arms. The smirk still played on her lips but there was something off about it.

"Good show, my lord," she gave him a brief bow before walking away and disappearing into the crowd.

Arnold stared after her. He still felt dizzy and light headed, not quite understanding what just happened. His heart still hadn't regained its normal rhythm. The crew was still dancing, not seeming to notice Helga's disappearance. When he was sure no one was watching, or would follow him, he slipped out of the mess hall as well to find her.

Outside the temperature had dropped so that it was almost chilly. But the skies with once again clear and peppered with thousands of stars. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust but Arnold found Helga sitting on the railing of the forecastle, staring up at the moon. Arnold's footsteps faltered. What was even he planning on doing? What was he going to say? What was he supposed to say? He had never met anyone, man or woman, who was as intense, intriguing or as deadly as her. Who made his heart race or his blood boil like she did. So, what was he supposed to say to someone like that?

"Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there, governor?" she asked not even bothering to turn around, "in case you didn't realize, I came out here for some privacy."

Arnold's footsteps faltered and a small frown graced hips lips, "I was just come to check on you, my lady. You left so suddenly I was worried."

"Will you stop calling me that!?" Helga whirled on him in a sudden fury, "I never was, nor have I ever been, or will be, a lady. Got it!?"

Arnold's eyes narrowed, but he took a breath to calm himself. He walked up beside her and looked out into the water. The moon made the waves glow silver for miles. The sight calmed him. His love for the sea was growing every day. The longer he was here, captive or not, the longer he felt strangely comfortable. Not like he was home, but something different.

Suddenly Helga spoke, her voice soft and reverent;

" _The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray_

 _Mounts up the eastern sky,_

 _Not doomed to these short nights for aye,_

 _But shining steadily._

 _She does not wane, but my fortune,_

 _Which her rays do not bless,_

 _My wayward path declineth soon,_

 _But she shines not the less._

 _And if she faintly glimmers here,_

 _And paled is her light,_

 _Yet alway in her proper sphere_

 _She's mistress of the night."_

Arnold stared at her, his heart fluttering and his breath short. The look on her face was pensive, her expression thoughtful. But there was something sorrowful behind her soft eyes. Sorrowful but resolute.

"That was beautiful," he whispered, "did you-"

"Will you give it a rest, _governor_?" she interrupted, turning to him with a heated glare, "In case you forgot, we aren't friends, and you aren't a part of this crew. From the minute, you got here you've been demanding for us to let you go back to your privilege life, so cut the nice act because it's making me sick. You're just a ransom letter to us. A payday and nothing more."

She spun off the railing and started to walk away, but Arnold grabbed her arm. He yanked her toward him to look her in the face.

"Why are you being like this to me?" He demanded angrily, "In case you forgot, you were the ones who kidnapped me! You're the ones who won't let me go! But God help me, how can I help it that I'm… that I'm starting to... that I-"

"Don't!" Helga hissed. There was a sudden flash and she was pressing a knife against his cheek. Arnold gasped, his eyes widening in shock. Helga's eyes were hot with hatred but her eyes shimmered.

"Why did you dance with me?" Arnold asked in a whisper, "If I'm just a payday then why did you dance with me?"

Helga choked out a laugh, pressing the knife more firmly into his cheek, "I was drunk. It meant nothing to me. You mean less than nothing to me."

Arnold staggered and let her go. The breath left his body and he felt hollow like someone hit him in the stomach. His lips trembled but he drew himself up to his full height and offered her a stiff bow.

"I apologize for taking too many liberties, my lady," He said tonelessly, "if it pleases you, I shall refrain from ever speaking to you again."

He turned on his heel and walked away from her before she had a chance to respond. If Arnold could, he would will himself to stop feeling entirely. Behind him, he heard a dull thunk. He turned back around, but Helga had already disappeared. Her knife was thrust all the way to the hilt in the mast.

* * *

The next morning, Arnold's head felt thick and his mouth was dry. The worst pain though was the ache in his chest.

"Too much wine," he muttered to himself even though he knew it wasn't the truth. But he wasn't going to think about that. No, he had to focus on getting back home. That was the only think that mattered.

"I just have to figure out how," Arnold sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, "how in the world am I going… to…"

He suddenly froze, one hand in his hair, the other still in his lap. One hand in his hair, one hand in his lap. And no rope in between. Arnold drew in a sharp breath and stretched his hands out, staring at them. His wrists were still pink and raw but the rope was definitely gone. Did it come untied when he was sleeping? A quick check under the blankets and under the bed proved that theory negative. Brian was nowhere to be found but he wouldn't take off his rope, would he? No, he was loyal to Helga and wouldn't defy her to free Arnold. As a matter of fact, no one in their right mind would defy Helga.

A sudden heat rushed to Arnold's face as he fully realized the implication of that. No pirate on this ship would defy Helga. Which meant that only she would-

"But why?" Arnold stood up and started pacing, "why would she free me? She- she hates…me."

The thought hurt more than he expected. He knew it shouldn't but it did. From the very moment, he met her Helga had threatened him, teased him, and even cut him. Why should he care if she hated him? It didn't matter anyway. Soon he would be gone from here. Away from her forever just like she wanted.

Making his way above deck, Arnold looked around cautiously. No one paid attention to him. Or they were ignoring him. An uneasy feeling twisted in his stomach as he all but strolled to the life boats. He found himself almost subconsciously looking for that now familiar flash of pink. His ears were straining to pick up the sound of her yelling or snickering.

"Don't think about her," Arnold whispered to himself, "she sure isn't thinking about you."

He stopped short though when he reached the boats. Arnold was wrong. The closest boat had been already prepared for his escape. It sat ready with oars, a sack of food, and a casket of wine sitting inside next to a map. Arnold felt his knees nearly buckle and grabbed onto the railing for support. It all clicked in his mind now. The rope, the crew ignoring him, this boat. Helga had planned it. She was all but kicking him off the ship, defying the captain himself to let Arnold escape.

Far from being grateful, Arnold felt a curious twinge in his chest. Leaving now meant he would be home in a week or less, especially if he met another ship on the way. Arnold could be back in Hillwood. Back to his old life, back to his friends, and away from… Helga. There was no doubt in his mind that he would never see her again. He would never have to endure her teasing or her threats. Her mood swings or her sharp knives.

Her smile or her laughter.

Her sunlit blonde hair or her shimmering, sky blue eyes.

Arnold took a step back from the railing and the boat. And another. And another. He kept walking until he found Curly, Edmond, and Brain, working to repair some of the sails damaged in the storm. He cleared his throat nervously and they turned to him with surprised stares.

"Um, hey," Arnold spoke with a nervous smile, "Anything I can do to help?"

* * *

It wasn't until the next afternoon Helga returned to the ship. Arnold saw several of the crew members rush excitedly to the side of the ship and felt his pulse quicken. He trailed behind them, watching from a distance as a crowd gathered to welcome her back. Even from a distance he could see that she looked weary. She waved her crew mates off impatiently as they tried to help her over the railing, peppering her with questions and words of welcome.

"Later, later," she waved everyone off impatiently, "Wolfgang, the loot is in the boat. Tell the captain I'll give the full report later. I'm taking a nap."

The crew parted to let her pass and she strode through them. Helga walked with her head down, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Arnold felt his breath catch she drew closer to him, not even realizing he was there.

"Hello, my lady," he spoke with a small laugh, "glad to see you're back safely."

Helga jumped and looked up at him, pure shock written all over her features, "Ar-Arnold? You're still here?"

She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, but Arnold had all the confirmation he needed. He felt himself grinning, even though Helga had already resumed her normal scowl. But her eyes still gave her away, staring at him warily.

"Governor," she corrected swiftly, trying and failing to keep the wariness out of her voice, "I'd figure you'd be swimming back home by now."

"What can I say, my lady?" Arnold's grin increased as he took her hand and bowed over it, "you have me completely captive."

Helga started with a gasp and a bright blush burned on her face, "Wh-what?"

Arnold resisted the urge to laugh at her stunned and flustered expression, "Don't you remember my lady? Captain Roth said that you were responsible for me. And I would hate to get you in trouble for your carelessness."

"You son of a-" Helga tried to look intimidating but her eyes were soft, an expression he couldn't name flickering behind her eyes, "You're too dense for your own good, you know that?"

"Whatever you say, _my lady_." He bowed over her hand again, wondering if her hand would feel soft against his lips, when she snatched it from him and hit him on the back of his head.

"That's right, you're my captive," Helga smirked, "now get back to work, _my lord_ before I throw you overboard myself."

She spoke to him in the same abrupt way she usually did, but there was something different in the sparkle of her eyes as she impatiently pushed him aside. As Helga disappeared below deck, Arnold found himself smiling, feeling light headed, dizzy, and incredibly warm.

 **A**


	9. Chapter 8

The temperament of the Fox Hole crew shifted along with the changing winds. Whitecaps began to show on the ocean's surface as the sails trembled. The pirates were becoming restless, snapping at each other and getting even snippier at Arnold. He did his best to stay invisible and out of the way, but no matter where he went someone was always snapping at him, spitting at his shoes, or even threatening to keelhaul him. He didn't even want to know what the last one entailed. He was lucky that Helga never replaced the rope around his wrists or else they probably would have tied it around his neck already. Arnold wasn't completely unaffected by the change in the air either. He found himself staring off into the horizon more often than usual. He wasn't irritable, but he could feel something stirring inside of him. Was it hope? Was he still hoping for a rescue ship, even now? Or was he looking for something else?

"Are you daydreaming again!? Criminy, you have to be the laziest captive this ship's ever had!"

Even angry her voice had an effect on him. Arnold didn't even attempt to hide his smile as he turned to face her. Helga met his smile with a scowl; it was obvious that the ship's restlessness was affecting her too. In one hand, she carried a bucket filled with water.

"My lady," Arnold inclined his head in a small bow, "how are you today?"

"Irritable," Helga snapped and tossed the bucket at his feet, spilling half of it on his pant leg. "Now stop lounging and get to scrubbing. The Captain ain't keeping ya here because he likes your company."

"And what about you, my lady?" Arnold took a step closer to her, "Do you enjoy my company?"

A light flush appeared in her cheeks just as he hoped it would. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh. Teasing Helga had become somewhat of an amusing activity to him. There was always a risk that he would irritate her past the point of no return, but it was worth it. Helga shook her head and tossed him a bristle brush. Or rather, she pegged it at him, hitting him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

"I'm not going to tell you again, _my lord_ ," Her lips were snarling but her eyes were sparkling.

Arnold rubbed the now sore spot on his chest with a grimace, but obediently got on his knees and began scrubbing. There was a soft scraping sound and he looked up to see Helga settling on a wooden crate, and pulling out a small leather book to write in. His breath caught in his throat and he quickly glanced around. Half hidden by the mast and raised forecastle deck, the two of them were as secluded as they could be on an open deck. The only time he had ever seen her write in her book was when she was in her room. He always thought of her writing as a secretive hobby. Arnold scrubbed the deck thoughtfully for a moment. Was writing in front of him mean that she trusted him? And normally, Helga would just order him to work but then order Curly or Harold to watch him. Was there a reason she was sticking around?

When he looked up again, all the heat slammed into his face. Helga was sitting with her legs crossed, one knee over the other. The slit in her dress had fallen open and was exposing her long, toned legs up to her thighs. Her hair was tossed over one shoulder as her head tilted to the side. Arnold eyed the slim line of her neck, lingering on a scar on her collarbone. Her skin looked so soft, he wondered if it was sensitive too.

"What are you gawking at?"

Arnold's eyes shot up again to find Helga smirking at him. She giggled, obviously enjoying his discomfort. His brain scrambled to something, anything to say before he said what he was really thinking.

"Do you like writing?" He blurted out, "I noticed you writing in that book before. I mean, the first time I met you."

Helga stopped giggling and tapped her pen against the book a few times before answering, "Yeah. It's a hobby. What does it concern you?"

"Curiosity," Arnold smiled and shifted into a more comfortable position, "what do you write about?"

"None of your business." Helga snapped the book shut and tucked it away somewhere, "So tell me, governor, what do you do when you're not being kidnapped by loathsome pirates?"

Arnold hid his surprise the best he could. It was the first time Helga had made an effort to get to know him. But his elation faded when he realized that he didn't have anything interesting to impress her with.

"Oh you know, I approved ordinances, submit budgets, and… stuff…" He answered weakly with a half shrug.

"Really?" Helga raised an eyebrow in surprise, "You make it sound so… exciting."

"What can I say? I have a responsibility to the people of Port Hillwood. It isn't supposed to be exciting."

"Then I suppose we did you a favor?"

Arnold found himself unable to answer her, choosing instead to focus on scrubbing. The guilt which had just started to fade came back full force. Port Hillwood needed him and he was in the middle of the ocean. No plan to get back, no rescue in sight. But maybe worst of all was the fact that just maybe, he had been enjoying his departure from his responsibilities. Shops in Port Hillwood were probably going out of business while he was staring out at the horizon and dancing with beautiful pirates.

The bucket suddenly tipped over, spilling water all over his knees. Arnold snapped out of his guilt filled ruminations and jumped up. Helga snickered, her foot still bouncing in the air.

"I don't like being ignored, _my lord,_ " she laughed. She then leaned forward, peering at Arnold with bright blue, inquisitive eyes, "Where did you go just now?"

"I was… thinking about home," Arnold answered morosely, "Helga, please, I'm begging you. They need me back home. They don't have the money or the resources to replace me and they can't afford a ransom. I'd never forgive myself if the port closed down because of me."

Helga gave a slow nod and her expression became contemplative, "And what if it does?"

"What?" Arnold's head came up and he stared at her. He looked for any sign of mocking or malice but found none. He frowned, feeling a little annoyed, "What do you mean?"

Helga looked away from him, out onto the water. And when she spoke her voice was quiet but firm, " _Qui n'avance pas, recule._ Who does not move forward, recedes. Even if the port does close, doesn't mean the world will cease to exist."

"But- but- people would lose their businesses! Their homes!" Arnold exclaimed in shock, "Don't you care!?"

"It's happened before," She shrugged, "Businesses come and businesses go. But the thing I've learned is, no matter what happens, you have to keep moving forward. If one plan doesn't pan out, you make another one. If you're met with an obstacle, you fight through it or go around it. Just because the port closes, doesn't mean the people disappear. Their fate doesn't rest in your hands, Sir Shortman. Whether or not they'll persevere is up to them."

Arnold's mouth opened but no words came out. The agitation that had been building inside of him dissipated. The tension in his muscles eased. Helga sounded so sure of her words; so world-wise and confident. It made him feel that much more inexperienced. But did that mean, she was talking from experience?

"You… sound like you've been through some things," He whispered thoughtfully. Arnold's legs began to feel weak so he moved to lean against the railing. Helga was just so many leagues ahead of him in so many ways. She's probably traveled around the seas while he sat at home. Arnold watched the clouds drift lazily across the horizon. An uncomfortable thought whispered at the back of his mind and he tried his best to push it away. He could feel Helga watching him and it made the palms of his hands prickle.

"Sir Shortman?"

"My parents disappeared when I was young." The words came out of Arnold's mouth unbidden and unexpectedly. He bit his lips hard, unwilling to let painful memories and the deep sorrow that came with them swallow him up with her watching.

A jolt went through him when he felt something soft press against his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Helga step up to the railing next to him. Her arm brushed against his and he was surprised he just noticed that she was nearly as tall as he was. She wasn't looking at him, but she didn't need to. A warm feeling began to spread through him at her touch, but whether it was accidental or on purpose he didn't know. But he didn't have the courage to press closer. Accidental or on purpose, Helga's touch had a soothing effect even as the sparks began to dance under his skin. Arnold took a deep breath, willing his voice to remain strong.

"My parents were explorers," he continued, "But one day, they just never came back. My grandparents and I held on for as long as we could, but we went bankrupt looking for them. And then… my grandparents got sick. We hadn't realized our financial situation until we couldn't afford doctors or medicine. Then they passed. All I had left was my best friend Gerald."

"But you made a way," Helga whispered, "You're far from destitute, my lord."

Arnold snorted, "The way was handed to me. I inherited the title and the position. I didn't want it, but I took it because I had nothing left. Port Hillwood needs me, but I need them just as much. I honestly don't know who I am if not their governor."

The waves continued to dance, throwing up small bursts of salty foam. A lone gull called ahead and got no answer. Arnold's chest felt tight but his shoulders felt light. He had never really talked like this about anyone, not even Gerald. He always tried to keep a bright view on everything, trying not even to let himself wallow in dark thoughts. The soft pressure against his arm increased, making him smile because he knew this time it was deliberate. He closed his eyes and pressed back, waiting for her words of comfort.

"You're a complete idiot."

Arnold's eyes snapped opened and looked at her with a frown. "Hey!"

"What? I mean it," Helga smirked at him, her eyes both sympathetic and teasing, "Look at me Sir Shortman. What's the different between me and you?"

A warm blush spread across Arnold's face as he took her in. From the coy smile on her face to her impatient and bold stance. Her arms were folded as she waited for him to answer her question and he couldn't help but notice-

"I'm a woman, duh," Helga roughly poked him in the chest, "And you, _sir,_ are a man."

"I, um, n-noticed," Arnold cleared his throat awkwardly, "but what does that have to do with anything?"

"It means you can do anything you want," Helga's gaze softened, "You're so lucky you were born a guy. And even more, you don't have anything tying you down. You're free to go where you want and do what you want. Who cares if you don't have money? Why, my own mother-"

"Spanish Galleon, twenty degrees northeast!" A voice cried overhead, "fully loaded and fully armed!"

Before the cry had even ended, it was answered by over a dozen excited shouts from all over the ship. Arnold looked around as the noise on the ship increased. The tension that had plagued the ship seemed to have broken as the pirates ran around the ship, yelling in excitement.

"Helga, what's going… on…"

Arnold trailed off when he noticed a familiar dangerous glint in her eyes. Helga braced one leg against the railing and pulled a spyglass out of her boot, scanning the horizon with it. Arnold looked in the same direction and spotted a large ship which they were quickly on their way to intercept.

"Four masts, five cannon ports on the starboard side," Helga mused out loud, "might be a challenge but it'll definitely be worth the booty."

Arnold felt the blood drain from his face as he realized what was about to happen, "You guys aren't going to attack it are you?"

"Of course we are! What kind of stupid question-" Helga's eyes widened in sudden realization, "Ah hell!"

"Helga!" Wolfgang strode up to them and pushed Arnold out of the way to loop an arm around Helga's shoulders. His twin sabers were hanging unsheathed by his side and two pistols were tucked into his belt. He pushed his face close to Helga's, making Arnold's blood boil. "You ready to have some fun, gorgeous?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there," Helga pushed him away and grabbed Arnold's wrist, "Come on, governor, we have to get you below deck."

Helga began to drag him across the crowded deck were the pirates were getting ready for a fight. Weapons were unsheathed and sharpened, guns were being cleaned and loaded, and more than one bottle was being passed around. Arnold's stomach clenched remembering the brutal attack on his home not so long ago.

"Helga, you don't have to do this," Arnold pleaded as they disappeared below deck, "there are innocent people onboard that ship just trying to make a living."

Helga glanced at him over her shoulder, "Have you forgotten who we are, governor?"

"No, but," Arnold licked his dry lips, "do you really have to do this?"

This time, Helga's smile was predatory and wicked, "Have you forgotten who _I_ am?"

They made it to her room and she pulled him inside. She immediately went for her sword laying against the wall, but Arnold stepped in front of her.

"I cannot let you do this, my lady," He said firmly, "As I gentleman I have to protest and insist on your safety."

Helga responded by rolling her eyes and punched him in the stomach, bringing him to his knees. As Arnold gasped for breath and tried to blink the water out of his eyes, she easily moved around him and grabbed her sword.

"Brian where are you?" She called out, "Get in here now!"

There was a soft rasping sound and Brian crawled out from under her bed. There was the sound of cannons and the ship suddenly rocked as it changed direction. Helga spared Arnold one more glance before kissing Brian on the forehead and rushing out of the room, closing the door behind her. Arnold rushed up to open it again but the knob wouldn't budge.

"She locked us in!" Arnold cried out in astonishment, "I can't believe she locked us in."

"We're supposed to… stay here…" Brian rasped calmly, sitting on her bed, "Keeps us…. Safe…"

"But they're out there attacking that ship. We must stop them. Innocent people…" Arnold trailed off and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the door. Deep down, he knew it wasn't the merchants he was worried about. It was her. Pirate or not, she was willingly walking headfirst into danger and the thought made him sick to his stomach. He'd witnessed her bravery first hand; he'd experienced her fierceness. But there was something in him that refused to ignore the fact that she was a woman, and it was his job as a gentleman to protect her.

With a sudden rush of determination, Arnold pushed away from the door and looked around for a means of escape. The ship gave another jerk and the shouting overhead told him that something was happening and he was running out of time. Then his eyes fell upon the stack of crates against the wall. A similar stack of crates on the other side hid a passage between the rooms. Arnold moved the crates aside but was immediately dismayed to see that the passage was too small for him to fit through. But it wasn't too small for someone else.

"Brian," Arnold dropped to his knees in front of the young boy, "I need your help. Helga's out there and… I can't just sit here and do nothing! Can you crawl through that passage and unlock the door from the outside?"

For a moment Brian just sat there, seemingly impassive. But then he nodded, "Um… okay…"

Brian slowly eased off the bed and made his way to the passage, disappearing to the other side. Arnold was ready to pull his hair out by the time Brian opened the door and he sprinted out of the room. His mind was only filled with the worst. What if she was killed? What if the pirates were overpowered? The punishment for piracy was death by hanging and not even he would be able to save her if it came to that.

The sunlight was glaring and the air was already thick with cannon smoke by the time Arnold made it on deck. Just as he suspected, the _Fox Hole_ was pulled astride the heavily armed merchant ship. Billows of smoke rose from both sips and sounds of fighting and clashing metal filled the air. While the deck of the _Fox Hole_ was nearly empty, the deck of the merchant ship was crowded. Arnold leaned over the railing, straining his eyes to see any flash of pink or yellow, but there was too much commotion to see anything.

"Where were you, hiding like a little baby?" A voice jeered behind him. Harold walked up behind him with a smug grin, "What's the matter? Was all of this too much for your delicate constitution, governor?"

Far from being intimidated, Arnold narrowed his eyes at him, "I could ask you the same thing! How could you just stay safely on the ship while Helga is over there fighting?"

Harold frowned in annoyance, "Hey, someone has to watch the ship to make sure we don't drift away during the fight. Besides, what are you so worried about Helga for? She and Wolfgang can handle ten guys at once."

"A lady shouldn't be fighting at all," Arnold groaned and leaned over the railing again, "I can't even see her. What if she gets hurt or worse?"

"Oh calm down, you big baby. Here, you can see for yourself that's she and Wolfgang are fine."

Harold roughly elbowed him and handed him a spyglass. Putting it to his eye, Arnold impatiently adjusted the lens until the deck of the opposite ship came into focus. Just as he feared, the armed merchants easily outnumbered the _Fox Hole's_ crew. But the crew was fighting back fiercely. A small flurry of explosions led him to locate Curly, using smoke bombs and cherry bombs to disable and distract his opponents. A body little flew across the deck and moving the spyglass around, he spotted Captain Roth literally throwing men around like rag dolls using his brute strength.

And then finally, he saw her.

How she was so graceful, Arnold couldn't fathom. Sword in hand, hair tied back, she moved like a dancer. She was facing off against a large man; more than a hundred pounds heavier and more muscular than she. With a snarl, he pulled out a large, ugly pistol and aimed it directly at her. Arnold's heart stopped. The man pulled the trigger. The gun fired. Helga was gone.

"What?" Arnold blinked and peered through the spyglass again.

Helga had dropped, faster than he or the merchant, had been able to track. The round shot clear over her head. Helga then shot forward, still low to the ground, and delivered a sweeping kick, knocking the man off his feet. As he fell he tried to fire another round at her, but Helga easily avoided it and slashed at his wrist, forcing him to drop his pistol. Arnold would have cried in relief if he wasn't so awestruck. But then more men began to surround her.

"Alright, here we go!" Harold crowed excitedly, pulling out yet another spyglass, "Now the real exciting part is about to happen."

"What are you talking about? We have to help her!" Arnold yelled in a panic, "There's no way she can handle them by herself."

"Who said that she was?"

He made Arnold look again and this time he saw Wolfgang by her side. The men charged at them, rapiers raised. Wolfgang blocked three of the swords at once with his twin sabers, Helga used his shoulders as leverage to leap over him and deliver a kick to knock one of them away, while Wolfgang finished the other two off with a powerful horizontal strike. Another man tried attacking Wolfgang from behind, but Helga spun around him and slashed at him. The merchant stepped back to avoid her giving Wolfgang enough time to pull out one of his pistols and shot him down. The two of them worked in tandem, almost in a dance of their own. Wolfgang's brute strength and Helga's agility made them a formidable pair.

Arnold's stomach was suddenly seized with a burning, tightening sensation that he didn't have a name for. He should have been more than glad that Helga wasn't fighting by herself. It should be a relief to know that together, the two of them, were more than a match for the men they were fighting. Their movements were fluid, almost rehearsed. As if they spent years doing this. Together.

Arnold sighed, "As long as she's safe, that's all that matters."

Suddenly though, something broke in their routine. Helga moved forward to strike one of the men but Wolfgang roughly pushed her aside to take him on himself. Helga only had time to shoot Wolfgang an annoyed look before she had to fight someone else. Rather than assist her though, Wolfgang once again pushed her aside to take him on himself. It was clear he wasn't doing it to protect her though. Every time he did it the cocky grin on his face increase and Helga looked more and more annoyed. There were also unforeseen consequences to Wolfgang's brashness. It was nothing now to separate and surround Helga without Wolfgang even noticing. Regardless, Helga fought back fiercely, holding her own if only just barely. That is until a gargantuan man wielding a broadsword stepped forward. One swing and Helga was knocked back. Another swing and her sword went flying out of her hand. She made a dive for it but caught his boot in her ribs, knocking her further from it. The broad sword went up again to end her life.

"Helga!" Arnold yelled in desperation.

None of the other pirates were close enough to help her. Arnold looked around desperately. At the riggings. The loose ropes. The knife in Harold's belt.

An idea suddenly struck him. Without a second thought, Arnold snatched the knife from Harold's belt and ran towards the rigging. Jumping on one of the barrels for height, he gripped the taut rope with one hand and started cutting. As soon as the tension released, the rope swung out, carrying Arnold with it. He swung toward the merchant ship angling his body to aim at Helga. His heart was thundering in his chest as the force of the wind blew back his hair. He must have called her name again, because Helga looked up, and met him with wide, shocked eyes.

Suddenly, Arnold's hand slipped from the rope and he collided with the gargantuan man. They crashed to the deck and the impact was enough to send Arnold tumbling. There was a moment of disorientation where spots danced before his eyes until he regained his senses.

" _Maldito pirata_!" The gargantuan man was only briefly knocked off balance and quickly regained his footing. He shot Arnold a venomous look before returning his attention to Helga again. "I'll take care of you after I kill this murderous _perra_."

"No!" Arnold snatched up Helga's fallen sword and ran forward, "Don't touch her!"

"Shortman, don't!"

Again the broadsword swung down, but this time Arnold dove between them, raising Helga's sword to block it. There was the sharp ching of metal against metal. But the broad sword broke through Helga's lighter sword and the momentum carried the broadsword down, cutting right into Arnold's shoulder.

"Ahh!" Arnold cried out in both shock and pain.

Thick, sharp smelling blood poured out of the searing wound and his arm felt numb. He didn't know what to do. His mind felt like it was clouding over. Helga suddenly pulled him backward and the air whooshed above his head as the sword swung over him. Arnold regained just enough focus to see Helga, her face like thunder, pull a strange looking blade out of her belt and fling it at the man. It flew out of her hand in a surprisingly straight path and embedded itself right in the man's forehead. His eyes showed surprise for just a moment before crossing and he fell over, dead.

"What were you thinking, you idiot?" Helga's face came into focus as Arnold felt her tug him into her lap, pressing down on his numb, tingling shoulder. Something wet hit his face and he realized with a shock that it was a tear drop. Helga's eyes sparkled with more unshed tears even as she scowled at him.

Arnold felt his lips turned up in a smile before his vision went dark.

"It was my pleasure… my lady…"

* * *

Somehow, even outnumbered and outgunned, the _Fox Hole_ crew ended up the victors. The goods were transferred over to the _Fox Hole_ ; mostly sugar, spices, fruits, and timber. An excited cry went out though when several stores of silver and silk were discovered. Captain Roth ordered the extra row boats to be dismantled for wood, their cannons thrown overboard, and all their weapons and gunpowder confiscated, but allowed the merchants to keep some supplies and enough provisions to get them back to land safely.

Somehow, with the help of Wolfgang and Edmund, Helga managed to get Arnold back to their ship and into Brian's room to tend to his injury. Brian looked like he was about to cry when he saw him, and quite frankly, Arnold almost fainted when he looked down at himself. Helga insisted that it wasn't as bad as it looked, but it still needed to be stitched up.

"Ow!" Arnold hissed in pain, "Do you have to be so rough!?"

"You should have thought of that before you did something so stupid!" Helga snapped back, not even bothering to look up.

Arnold fell back against the bed with a groan, wishing he could be unconscious again. Helga shot him an annoyed look and readjusted her position on the bed to keep working on him. Arnold's heart still felt like it was racing. If not for the pain in his shoulder, he almost wouldn't have believed what had happened in the past few hours. Quite frankly, he almost didn't feel like himself. He never expected that he could do the things that did in the past few hours.

It was… incredible.

"Ow!" He yelped again, "Helga-"

"Brian, go tell Harold to boil up some water and mash up some mint and garlic," Helga ordered him, "then mix it up together and bring it in a warm cloth."

"Uh… okay…." Brian rasped and left the room, leaving an awkward silence behind.

Arnold could only watch Helga as she poured a little more whiskey on his wound and continued sewing his wound closed. Her dress was torn and spotted with blood in several places, but he couldn't tell which was her blood, his, or someone else's. His own shirt had been drenched with blood beyond help and was currently sitting in the corner. If he wasn't in so much pain, he would have been more self-conscious about being shirtless around her. He was, however, pleased to note a light blush on her face.

"What you did was stupid you know," Helga finally looked up to meet his eyes, "my sword was specially crafted. It wasn't made for blocking everything. And more than that, you could have gotten killed!"

"You could have as well, my lady," Arnold found himself lost in the endless sea of her eyes, "And I would never let that happen."

Helga's cheeks began to turn pink and she hastily looked away, "I told you to stop calling me that. I haven't been a lady in years. And more than that, I don't need you to protect me or save me. I can take care of myself, Arnold."

A sudden jolt went through Arnold, rocking him to his core. It was the first time that she had called by his first name. His eyes fell to her lips. A battle began in his mind over what he wanted to do, and what he should do.

"Hey!" Helga turned to him with a glare, "Are you even listening to me? I don't ever want you to do something so stupid or dangerous again, Arnold!"

And then, for once in his life, Arnold decided to go for the thing he wanted. He sat up so suddenly that Helga fell back with a look of surprise on her face.

"Arn-"

Before she could say his name a third time, Arnold grabbed the back of her head and brought her lips down to his.


	10. Chapter 9

The _Black Viper_ glided across the water like a serpent, searching for its next meal. The wood of the ship was as black as its sails, but not a single speck of grime marred its surface. The ship was kept too meticulously for that. The crew was feared their captain too much to disobey. Nothing on the ship was ever out of its place.

Captain Vincent Clement gazed out the window, a single finger stroking his oiled and carefully groomed mustache. And a captain was like his ship; nothing was out of its place. Not a single stray thread or a tear could be seen on his silk, tailored garments. The same could be said for his quarters. Oil paintings hung on the wall alongside velvet tapestries. Various treasures sat on pedestals. In the corner of the room, one of his men played a violin.

"The sea is beautiful, _oui_?" Captain Vincent asked, his voice rich and deep,

His companion playing the violin didn't answer. He kept his unseeing eyes trained on the floor and continued playing. It had cost him his sight and his tongue to learn that Captain Vincent only required him to play, not to provide conversation.

"But oh, what is this?" Captain Vincent reached into his silk coat and pulled out a spyglass. He peered through it and rotated the lens to focus on the object on the horizon. A relatively small vessel, two sails, but armed.

Smaller than the Spanish merchant ship, but then again, the _Black Viper_ was always searching for its next meal.

Captain Vincent sat his polished, hand carved desk and rang a bell. As he waited for his quartermaster to respond, he polished and sharpened his sword. It was already gleaming, having been recently cleaned of all blood, but its edge had dulled from cutting through bone. After a few short moments his quartermaster, Monsieur Desmond, entered his quarters. Less polished and refined than himself, Monsieur Desmond was at least had some semblance of a gentleman.

"You rang, _Mon capitaine_?" He asked.

Captain Vincent nodded toward the window, "Look out there, and tell me what you see?"

Desmond pulled out his own spyglass and followed his captain's instructions. When he spotted the ship, an amused smile curved his lips, "I shall give out the orders to adjust course immediately _mon capitaine_."

"Ready the cannons as well," Captain Vincent added, "We don't want to be late for our rendezvous, non?"

"Yes, _mon capitaine,"_ Monsieur Desmond backed out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Captain Vincent sat back in his chair and closed his eyes to enjoy the music. Soon, he would enjoy the music of cannon fire and screams.

* * *

They were making great time, they had to be catching up to them soon. Gerald was sure of it. They storm had thrown them off course, nearly capsizing them in the process, but luckily they only caught it just as it was blowing itself out. And it was only this morning, a few hours ago in fact, that they came across a Spanish merchant ship that had been recently stripped by pirates with an orange fox on their flag. They knew nothing of a kidnapped governor, but Gerald knew he was there.

"I'm coming for you brother," Gerald whispered to himself, "Just hold on a little while longer. When I find them, I'm going to kill every last one of them."

"Um, Gerald...sir…"

Gerald repressed a groan and turned to Stinky who was looking nervous and filthy, "Yes Peterson?"

"I, um, don't mean to bother you sir but," Stinky rubbed the back of his neck and shifted uncomfortably, "Sid-um, well, remember how you were telling us to make sure to adjust to the current? We noticed that it was kind er' acting funny. And we didn't want to get off course-"

"Peterson!" Gerald snapped impatiently, "What is it?"

"Um, Sid got stuck in the tiller," Stinky finished sheepishly.

Gerald groaned and ran a hand down his face, "And just how is that possible?"

"We tried turning the whiper-staff but it weren't working so Sid tried to fix it and-"

"Stop," Gerald held up a hand and sighed, "Just show me."

Stinky nodded and led him down below deck. Gerald followed behind growing more and more impatient with every step. They were so close to reaching their goal, God help them if Stinky and Sid had set them back. The two of them passed the barracks and the powder room housing their two cannons. Gerald's brow furrowed in confusion when they neared the back of the ship. Stinky merely paused though, grabbed a panel of the wood, and pulled at it.

"Hey!' Gerald exclaimed, "Don't break the ship! We still have to reach the governor and Port Hillwood in one piece!"

"But it comes off super easy, we thought it was supposed to come loose." Stinky finally tugged the plank loose, exposing an open area behind it.

The space was around the size of a closet, with a few beams being the only floor. The air smelled of moldy wood and salt water. A large pillar ran from the top to well underneath, disappearing below them. And standing in the middle, his feet barely touching the beam beneath him was Sid. His arm was raised high and his wrist disappeared into the wooden ceiling above him. Gerald was speechless, truly speechless. He confessed to not knowing much about the making of ships, just how to sail and command them, so he had no idea what he was looking at.

"Don't look at me like that," Sid flushed angrily and looked away, "It's not my fault this stupid thing broke."

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Gerald whispered when he could speak again. He didn't know if he should punch him and laugh, or just punch him.

"I told you it's the stupid tiller's fault!" Sid exclaimed, "I was turning the whip staff like I was supposed to but the ship wouldn't adjust course. So we looked at the rowie and that wasn't it so we came down here to check tiller and something is stuck in it. So I stuck my hand up to get it unstuck and now-"

"His wrist is jammed," Stinky finished, "and now we can't get it unjammed."

"I should chop it off!" Gerald shook his head angrily, "I swear you two. Alright, step aside and let a real man take care of this."

He stepped into the small space and Stinky followed after him, completely crowding the tiny space. Gerald grunted in displeasure and tugged at Sid's arm.

"Ow!"

"Hold still!"

Gerald tugged again but the wrist held. He peered closer to see if maybe his sleeve was caught on something, but it was wedged fast against whatever it was. The temptation of cutting Sid's hand off for real was growing stronger by the second.

"Hey," Stinky spoke up suddenly, "you guys hear something."

Gerald and Sid froze. The only sound Gerald could hear through was the creaking of the ship and a faint lapping noise. But then it came again and Gerald heard it. A shout. Followed by another shout.

"Something's happening," Gerald deduced, "We have to get up there."

He tugged again at Sid's arm but it held firm. He pulled again ignoring Sid's cry of pain and the shouting increased above them. Gerald paused for a minute, torn in what to do. If the ship was in danger he couldn't very well leave Sid trapped down here, completely vulnerable and helpless. But the men above weren't military trained.

"I'll- I'll be back for you," Gerald decided, letting go of Sid's arm, "I just have to-"

The ship gave a sudden lurch though, nearly sending all three of them off balance. The panel off wood fell back into position, closing off their exit and casting them in total darkness. The shouting above seemed to echo everywhere and distant booms made Gerald's stomach sink.

"We're under attack!" Gerald yelled out, "Stinky! Get that plank open now!"

The ship rocked again, and Stinky gave a shout of terror. "I can't see!"

"I'll do it!" Gerald tried to move but lost his footing and suddenly fell. One foot fell through the air for a sickening moment as it missed the beam below him. The rest of his body crashed to the ground and knocked the breath out of him. But he refused to give up. Completely blind, Gerald pulled himself up and slowly began to stand. His knees wobbled, but he got to his feet.

And everything exploded.

* * *

 _"I'm going to join the Navy someday."_

 _Arnold looked at him, age-old concern in his green eyes. Gerald turned away from his worried gaze and stared out onto the sea. It was particularly rough today, white caps going all the way to the horizon. He shifted and threw a rock into the water below. He wondered how far down it was. If you would hit the water, or smash yourself to pieces on the rocks below. Did it hurt to die?_

 _"Do you think it hurt?" He whispered, "When they- killed Jamie. Do you think it hurt a lot?"_

 _From the corner of his eye, he saw Arnold shrug, "I don't know."_

 _And for some reason, it made Gerald smile. Everyone else had been telling his family the same things over and over again. He was in a better place. Jamie died a hero. Everything happens for a reason. Only Arnold was honest. He would never lie in a clumsy attempt to console him. And that comforted Gerald the most._

 _"I think that you'd do great in the navy," Arnold spoke up suddenly, "You're really strong, and brave and stuff."_

 _Gerald found his smile and his confidence growing, "Yeah, I am aren't I? And you can join too!"_

 _"You think so?" Arnold looked out onto the horizon, "Maybe I could. And when my parents come back. I can talk to my dad about and maybe he'll take me serious about joining him and my mom."_

 _"And maybe we'll cross paths!" Gerald started bouncing in excitement, "Johanssen and Shortman! Privateer and Captain! Traveling the seven seas!"_

 _"Yay!" Arnold cheered and held out his fist, thumb up, "Best friends forever?"_

 _Gerald smiled, bumped his fist against his, and wiggled his thumb, "Forever, man."_

* * *

Gerald's eyes shot open as salt water filled his nose and mouth. His body went into a panic and he began to fail wildly. But then years of naval training kicked in. _Stop panicking and get yourself together!_ He forced his body to still and as soon as it relaxed he noticed he was leaning against something. With his body relaxed it bobbed upwards and Gerald realized that he was bobbing in the water, clinging to a piece of wreckage. His heart twisted as he looked around. All around him was wreckage and the water was darker in some areas. Dark with red. And smoke filled the air. A soft groan sounded somewhere close by and Gerald searched for its source. He spotted one of the old sailors clinging to another piece of wreckage.

"H-hold on!" Gerald sputtered, "I'm- I'm coming!"

He let go of the wreckage he was clinging and went under for a moment. Again, panic gripped him but Gerald kept his head. He forced his body up to break the surface and began swimming to his fellow Navy man.

"I'm here," Gerald reached him, "where are you… hurt…"

Gerald's voice trailed off as he turned the man to face him. His stomached instantly wanted to heave. One looked and he knew there was no help for his poor, unfortunate man.

"The viper," he gasped, choking on his own blood, "the black…viper…"

He groaned softly one final time before he slipped from Gerald's arms and into the dark water. In truth, Gerald was tempted to slip into the water too. He had failed. He had failed his station, failed his crew, and failed Arnold. There was nothing left now. Nothing. Hot tears blurred his eyes and mixed with the salty seawater.

"G-Gerald!"

Gerald's head came up right before he slipped under. The call came again and this time he saw them. Sid and Stinky floating on the same piece of wreckage and frantically waving to him. Gerald's mouth curved into a wry smile. He couldn't even give up in peace, could he? Once again he let go and swam over to them. They both looked more than a little relieved as if he wasn't in the same boat-less state they were in.

"Anyone hurt?" He asked when he reached them.

"J-just a little banged up, sir," Stinky gingerly poked at a bruise on his forehead.

"I, um, got free at least," Sid gave a hollow laugh, "Lucky for whoever did this to us."

"Focus," Gerald said firmly but without malice, "We have to find a way out of the water before shark or before we attract sharks."

"But how? We're in the middle of the ocean!" Sid's earlier bravado was beginning to give way to fear, "The Spanish merchant ship is long gone by now. Are we supposed to swim to shore!?"

"We could take a ship," Stinky suggested.

Gerald repressed a sigh and tried to grab hold of his patience, "Stinky, I think you swallowed too much salt water. There isn't ship anywhere for miles."

"Well… there's one now," Stinky pointed and Gerald turned in the direction he was indicating. Gerald's jaw dropped then he burst out laughing in shock and relief. Because gliding across the water, heading right in their direction, was a large ornate naval ship. The standard of fleet 118 rippled in the wind. Commodore Bassett had come to the rescue after all.


	11. Chapter 10

Keep knees bent. Feet light. One foot forward at all times. Parry. Parry. Thrust left. Thrust right. Angle diagonally but don't lose your grip. Keep your fingers loose. The deck of the _Fox Hole_ felt rough under Arnold's bare feet as he moved. The wooden sword in his hand was surprisingly heavy. But he tried to keep Curly and Harold's tips in mind. After their run in with the Spanish Merchant ship, they had taken it upon themselves to train him in sword play. Edmund was his current sparring partner now. Arnold never interacted with him much before but he quickly found out that he was fast, both in sword play and his foot work. He did seem to at least be trying to slow his regular pace though, allowing Arnold enough space and time to move and react.

Edmund swung down and Arnold raised his weapon to parry but the force nearly knocked it out of his hand.

"You're grip is still too tight," Edmund said in a low voice, "Keep your wrist loose so you can flow with the movements. Got it?"

"G-got it," Arnold was having a hard time taking notes while the sparring match continued. Heck, he was having a hard time breathing while sparring. What happened with the merchant ship had to be nothing but adrenaline. Years of sitting at a desk had taken its toll on his physique and his endurance. But he wasn't going to give up.

Keeping his stance loose, Arnold moved left, swing low right. Edmund stumbled back, trying to avoid the swing giving Arnold the opportunity to land a glancing blow to his hip. He felt a brief surge of triumph but had to temper it down because Edmund recovered quickly and the match was still on. There was no mistaken the cheering on the sidelines though. That was definitely in his favor.

"You losers call that fighting?" A nasty voice cut above the cheers.

Wolfgang emerged from below deck, smirking. Arnold swallowed in nervousness but straightened up as he calmly walked over to them. By the wicked gleam in his eyes though, Arnold could tell that Wolfgang meant no good.

"Hand over your sword, Edmund," He demanded with his hand out, "Let me show the governor how a _real_ man fights."

Edmund, of course, obeyed him, but at least had the decency to look uncomfortable, "Hey, maybe go easy on him? He's just now learning this stuff."

Wolfgang scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Ain't my fault he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Besides, he could use some humbling."

Edmund shot Arnold a brief sympathetic look before smirking as well, "Yeah, he needs to be humbled."

Arnold didn't give them the satisfaction of responding. He took a half step away from Wolfgang, resetting his fighting stance, and hoped that he wouldn't get humbled too badly.

"I'm ready when you are," He informed his new opponent.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on."

But Wolfgang didn't keep his own advice, stripping off his shirt and tossing it to the side. He then took his time stretching and cracking each knuckle of each hand, making sure every muscle of his chest and arms bulge. The only reason that Arnold could see why he was going through this regiment was for the sole purpose of intimidating him. And it was working. Wolfgang was literally twice his size and most certainly had more than twice the skills and experience. Arnold quickly glanced around, checking for and not finding the person he was looking for. Well, since she weren't around, maybe there was no shame in backing out now...

"Thinking about chickening out?" Wolfgang snickered, "I'm not surprised. A milk fed sap like you wouldn't stand a chance anyway."

Arnold's jaw clenched, his determination coming back in full, "Like I said, ready when you are."

Wolfgang laughed and suddenly lunged forward with a loud shout. Arnold barely had time to jump back and parry the blow. Wolfgang wasted no time in delivering a backhanded swipe which came a little too close to Arnold's face for his liking.

"Hey!"

"Stop whining and learn to dodge!"

Not only was Wolfgang strong but he was fast. He normally fought with two swords but Arnold quickly learned that he was just as skilled at single sword combat. Wolfgang swung down left and swung up right, making Arnold nearly dance to avoid the blows. He tried to counter with a few swings of his own but Wolfgang managed to either block them or dodge them easily.

"You're so pathetic," Wolfgang swung at him again with more force than was probably necessary. "I bet you've never held a real sword before."

"I haven't," Arnold grumbled. He didn't know why Wolfgang was so persistent in trying to injure or humiliate him. Well, he could guess why but he didn't exactly have the opportunity to confirm his theory. He also couldn't afford to get distracted if his theory was indeed correct.

"Come on governor, show him what you're made of!" Curly cheered.

"Yeah, you don't want Wolfgang to make you look like a sissy do you?" Harold laughed.

Arnold grit his teeth and tried to ignore the jeering on the sidelines. Thinking of his muse, he dodged to the side as Wolfgang swung down again, spun in a tight circle avoiding another blow, ending up behind Wolfgang. And using the momentum and the speed, swung his wooden sword as hard as he could and hit Wolfgang square in the center of his back. The crew of onlookers went wild.

"He got him! That pansy governor actually got Wolfgang!" Harold shook his fist triumphantly in the air.

"That's our lord! _La victoire! La victoire!"_ Curly echoed.

"I ain't dead yet!" Wolfgang yelled at them, shaking a fist threateningly, "It was only a flesh wound!"

But that's when Arnold heard it. A giggle so soft that it was almost carried away by the breeze. A smile spread across Arnold's face before he could stop it and by the sudden angry flush in Wolfgang's face, he could tell that he had heard it too. Without warning, Wolfgang delivered a harsh thrust that hit Arnold directly in the thick bandages of his wounded shoulder. Arnold hissed in pain and lost his focus for a moment. He was then struck across the jaw by Wolfgang's fist, colliding with the wooden deck painfully.

The crew burst into cheers again, their loyalty capricious and easily swayed. But even as Arnold laid there on the deck, nursing his sore jaw and Wolfgang gloating above him, a light feeling fluttered in his stomach. Because laying on the ground and staring up past Wolfgang, he could see Helga smirking down at him. She was once again sitting on the cross beams of one the shorter masts, looking down at them in mild amusement. Arnold smiled and attempted a sheepish wave. She responded by rolling eyes and looking elsewhere.

But suddenly, a cry came from the crow's nest, "Land ho!"

Wolfgang's victory was swiftly forgotten as everyone crowded the railing trying to see up front. There were excited cheers from everyone but Arnold felt a curious nausea. His head felt like it was buzzing. Land. Civilization. Another port or maybe a town. Was he about to witness another brutal attack on an unsuspecting town? Or would he be able to... escape?

"Alright you sea dogs, man your docking stations!" Captain Roth emerged from his quarters, his ever-present ax strapped to his side, "Helga! Come secure your captive before we go on shore!"

"Why bother?" Helga called down defiantly, "It's not like he's going anywhere!"

Captain Roth frowned at her insubordination and before Arnold had a chance to react or run away, the captain snatched him up by the collar and hefted him up until his feet barely touched the ground.

"Would ye rather I lock him in the brig for ye, and ye be responsible for him here?" Captain Roth yelled giving Arnold a rough shake.

"Ugh! Fine!"

Helga grabbed an untethered rope and used it to swing down until her feet were on deck, again. She then used her dagger to cut a length of rope, stomped over to them, and made a show of angrily tying it around Arnold's wrists, binding him yet again.

"There, happy now, captain?" She snapped.

Captain Roth glared at her and for a minute Arnold was afraid she'd gone too far. But the captain's expression suddenly changed to one of good humor. He bellowed out a loud laugh and feigned a swing at her which she easily dodged.

"Girly, if I didn't like that fire you had, I'd keelhaul you myself!" He laughed, "I don't know how my son puts up with ye!"

"He doesn't" Helga grumbled and gave a sharp tug on Arnold's rope, "Come on my lord, I have to get something from my cabin before we go ashore."

Arnold obediently nodded (even though he had no choice) and found himself hoping that once alone in her room, they would have an opportunity to... talk. But to his dismay, she brought him over to Curly and dropped his rope in his hands.

"Watch him," she ordered curtly before leaving again.

"M-my lady!" Arnold tried calling after her, but she only disappeared below deck. Before he could stop it, a forlorn sigh escaped his lips.

"Easy lover boy," Curly chuckled, "Our lady will return shortly. No need to get your silken undergarments in a bunch."

Arnold stuttered an instant denial but could feel his face warm. Instead of meeting Curly's teasing smirk, he chose to lean over the railing and watch the strip of land come steadily closer. As the docks came into focus, he immediately noticed some key differences between his port and this new one. Port Hillwood's docks were kept meticulously, the wooden planks scrubbed clean and constantly manned. The ships were moored securely and ranged from large naval ship to smaller merchant vessels. This dock looked in complete disarray. The docks themselves were filthy looking with several bottles of rum and garbage floating in the water below. The ships moored there looked in no better shape. Arnold noticed with a sinking feeling in his stomach that more than a few of them had unfamiliar insignias on their sails. And the closer they got the more Arnold could see that this town was nothing that he'd ever seen before.

"Welcome to Pirate Haven," Curly grandly announced what Arnold was afraid of, "Our affectionate name for this humble little port."

"So, this is Port Providence," Arnold repressed a shudder, "I've only read reports about its um... troublesome population."

"You mean how it's home to liars, thieves, and murderers?"

"Yeah, that."

As the ship drew closer to port, the _Fox Hole_ crew busied themselves more and more. Empty barrels were brought up as well as some of their hordes from the armed merchant ship they took down earlier. The only consolation Arnold felt was that they didn't seem to be preparing for an attack. The _Fox Hole_ nearly crashed into the docks and only then did Captain Roth give the call to drop anchor. There was no one at the dock to receive them so a few pirates dropped down into the water with ropes to tie the ship down. The gangplank was lowered. A few of the older crew members stayed on board for watch, but most of them left the ship in groups. Harold, Brian, Wolfgang, and Edmund practically raced down the gangplank, yelling and jostling each other good heartedly. Curly let go of Arnold's rope and raced after them, jumping onto Harold's back.

"Animals, they're all animals." Helga stepped up beside him, now with something wrapped up, strapped to her back. She took up his rope again, "Come on my lord, let's go."

"Yes, my lady."

As soon as Arnold stepped on to the dock though, he felt the wooden boards shift under his feet. He felt the curious, nauseous feeling of the ground bobbing underneath him. His second step he lost his footing again and bumped into Helga. He tensed, waiting for her angry retaliation but she only chuckled and grabbed him under his elbow to steady him.

"Someone's lost their land legs," she laughed, her blue eyes twinkling, "What's the matter governor, we kept you on the ship too long?"

"It... feels like the ground is moving," Arnold took a few cautious steps forward with her support. His knees still felt shaky but his steps were becoming steadier each step. It got to a point where he no longer needed her support, but he didn't move away from her either. He couldn't help but think that maybe, as long as they were here already, they might end up taking a stroll together properly. Like a true gentleman and lady.

"Aw, teaching your pet how to walk?"

Arnold's hopes were immediately dashed when he noticed that Harold, Curly, Wolfgang, and Edmund were waiting for them. The guys were snickering at Harold's joke but Helga only rolled her eyes.

"Yeah and if I could only teach you how to cook." She shot back.

"Hey! I can cook!" Harold yelled.

"Nothing edible," Wolfgang grumbled.

"Well, I think it's pretty good," Arnold shrugged, "certainly more flavorful than what we have back home."

There was a beat of surprised silence before Harold gave a vindicated shout, "Ha! The governor likes my food! Which means my cooking is good enough to feed royalty!"

"Technically Harold, I'm not royalty."

"And as an actual royal," Curly put in with a flourish of his wrist, "I can say with certainty that your food is not fit for our royal personage."

Helga scoffed, "Curly if you're royalty then I'm the Duchess of Milan."

Curly met her sneer with a wide smile and swept her an exaggerated bow, "How do, your highness?"

As the five of them walked through the port, the rough housing and playful teasing continued. Arnold watched the exchange with fascination as Wolfgang playfully cuffed Curly across the shoulder. Brian held on tight to Curly's jacket and looked around him in excitement. These six pirates, whom Arnold had witnessed time and time again as nearly heartless and blood thirsty, were acting like... old friends. Aside from Gerald, Arnold had never really associated with people his own age so, the sight was rare. His position had even sometimes caused a slight air of formality between himself and Gerald that he tried to ignore. But casting a quick look at himself, Arnold realized that he had nothing to fear with these pirates. He was wearing their clothes; his own had been too blood soaked from his injury. His hands were calloused and peeling and his skin was growing tan from being in the sun all day. As side from the ropes around his wrists, he could almost pass for one of them.

"That's what I'm talking about," Wolfgang suddenly whooped and gestured to one of the buildings. Drunken men staggered out, rough men laughed outside and heavily made up women flirted with both. "First round is on me boys. Think you can keep up with me this time?"

Arnold thought the question was directed at him, but Wolfgang's eyes were on Helga.

"Hm, tempting but I got errands to run. Curly, make sure Brian doesn't sneak any rum again. If he vomits, you're cleaning it up."

Without even bothering to ask him, not that she needed to, Helga pulled Arnold after her as she walked away. Arnold on his part tried to contain his happiness and nervousness. It was the first time they had been alone together in a while. Then again, there was always a flutter in his stomach whenever he was around her. The package on her back bounced against her shoulder blades as she walked. Her steps seemed faster than usual, bouncy even. And was it him or was there a hint of a smile on her lips? Arnold could hope it was because she was with him, but it seemed to have to do more with whatever their destination was.

"You know, you did a real number on my sword," Helga broke the silence first, and her eyes flickered over to him teasingly. "I noticed the guys have been teaching you sword play. Too little too late don't you think my lord?"

"It's never too late to learn anything my lady," Arnold smiled, "the training will allow me to better protect you next time we have an unpleasant run in."

Helga's gaze immediately hardened, "Who said there'll be a next time?"

"W-well," the sudden shift in her tone made him immediately wary, "as you keep reminding me, my lady, you're pirates. I assume that sort of thing happens often."

"It does," Helga's steps seemed to quicken and she looked straight ahead. "Who said you'd be with us next time?"

Arnold moved in front of her, trying to force her to stop and look at him. She was looking at him, but she kept walking, forcing him to walk backwards. Her gaze was steely but there was something deeper within it as well. Fear? Hope?

"Do you want me to be?" He asked, "Would you like me to stay your captive?"

The words left his mouth before he had a chance to think them over but it was too late to take them back. Helga scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I call your bluff, my lord. You're just a milk fed, lily livered, shark bait. You wouldn't last with us."

"I've been lasting so far haven't I?"

She must have been purposely steering him the entire time he was walking backwards, because the next thing Arnold knew they were in an abandoned alleyway. Helga smiled that was half smirk and half sneer and pushed his back hard against the wall with her forearm. Arnold stared at her and swallowed hard.

"You've only lasted because we've been going easy on you," Helga said in a low voice, almost a purr, "remember this?"

She purposely pressed against his bandage with the side of her wrist causing him to hiss a little in pain. He noticed that she wasn't pressing as hard as she could have though.

"Why are you doing this?" He grunted, staring her down. He had the same dizzying feeling that he always got staring into her eyes.

"To remind you that you aren't one of us," Helga pressed a little harder before releasing the pressure. "I know you think that you're having fun on this little vacation from your precious _responsibilities_ but in the end, we both know you'd go back to your real life tomorrow if you had a chance."

A sudden realization dawned on Arnold as well as a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She was right. In a way, Arnold would go back to Hillwood if he could. But he knew he could no longer be content to live the same life he was living. There was more he wanted now.

"Is that why you're doing this my lady?" He couldn't help but tease her, but his words were sincere "Are you afraid I'll leave you?"

The sharp sound of metal being pulled out of its leather sheath was his only warning before Arnold felt the cold steel of her knife against his cheek. Helga's cheeks were flushed but her eyes were furious. Arnold cast a quick look around, wondering if he could call for help if he needed to, but there was no one.

"I don't care what you do," Helga growled.

Arnold took a breath and looked her in the eyes, "My lady, I'm afraid I have to call your bluff now. I think you care very much what I do."

There. The stone wall of her expression fell for a split second but Arnold was so close to her that the second was all he needed to read her. His life was still very much in danger though. The steel returned to her eyes and the pressure against his cheek didn't lessen. The safest choice was silence but he was tired of the safe route.

"Do you think of me, Helga?" He whispered, her name sweet on his lips, "more than you care to admit?"

Her eyes went wide and Arnold was suddenly afraid that he went a step too far.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance."

In the next instant her lips were on his. Demanding, bruising, and unrelenting. Arnold's eyes shut in unadulterated, heart pounding bliss. He sighed, partially out of relief and partially out of happiness, and kissed her back. A soft mewl escaped her and Arnold wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her but with the rope restraining him, he had to settle for moving his lips avidly against her. Opening his heart to her, and sharing everything unsaid between them with the contact of their lips.

But all too soon Helga pulled away.

 _"Je suis une idiot!_ " She whispered savagely under her breath, shaking her head vigorously. She re-sheathed her dagger and stepped away from him. "That- didn't just happen."

Arnold wanted to be hurt, wanted to be offended, but he could still feel the pressure of her lips against his that completely contradicted the words she was actually saying. He couldn't entirely blame her denial and her anxiousness though. He knew they were from two different worlds, were two completely different people. But he couldn't deny whatever he was feeling. And the way Helga had kissed him told him that she felt something too.

"I don't mean to distress you, my lady," He spoke gently and took a cautious step towards her. "But... you should know that I hold great affection for you. And no matter what happens, I do not regret the night your people took me captive."

His words were as sincere and as honest as he could make them. Helga went still as she seemed to absorb his words. He waited breathlessly for her reaction. It felt like the first time he took a chance and kissed her. Like he had one foot dangling off the edge of a cliff waiting to fall into the water below. Unfortunately, nothing had come of Arnold's bravery when Brian returned to the room and shattered the tension between them. This time though, they were completely alone and there was no chance of interruption.

But instead of saying anything or having any reaction, Helga merely took up his rope and got him walking again.

"Come on," she spoke softly, not looking at him, "it's just around the corner."

Arnold felt his heart sink but he tried one final gesture. He stepped up next to her and took her hand in his as they walked. Helga didn't say anything, didn't slow her steps, but he felt her hesitantly squeeze his hand before letting go again. They remained silent as they exited the alley way and walked through the rough cobblestoned streets. Her steps quickened when they reached their destination, a blacksmith. The name Heyerdahl hung from a sign out front. Arnold opened the door for her with a small bow and Helga shook her head with a laugh. They were immediately greeted with a wave of smoky heat. A circular stone fire hearth resided in the center where a small leather-masked figure was feeding the massive fire with wood and air from a bellows. A small bell jingled when the door opened causing the figure to look up and gasp.

"Helga?" The figure's voice was surprisingly feminine.

Helga laughed and held out her arms, "the one and only."

The figure let out an even higher pitched squeal and quite literally leapt into Helga's arms. Now that Arnold's eyes had adjusted to the smoky gloom, he could see that the figure was small, more than a head shorter than Helga, petite and definitely a girl. And he also couldn't help but notice that this was the only person he had ever seen Helga hug.

"Long time no see, Phoebe," Helga pulled away from the hug and nodded towards Arnold, "there's someone I want you to meet."

The girl, Phoebe, lifted her protective leather mask off her face and peered at Arnold with piercing black eyes.

"Um, hello," Arnold gave her a polite nod, "My name is gov- Arnold. I'm a... friend of Helga's."

"Huh," Phoebe's eyes travelled down to his wrists and her mouth twitched up in a smile, "I can tell."

Arnold followed her gaze to his bound wrists and cringed at his embarrassing oversight and haste. It was worth it though to hear Helga laugh, even at his expense, and clap her friend on the shoulder.

"So, where's mom and dad?" She asked looking around, "Are they up front at the shop or in the back."

"Mother went to the docks to check on a shipment of supplies and father went to make some deliveries. I'm watching the shop and the smithy at the moment," Phoebe answered but didn't take her eyes off Arnold, "you know, I don't think you've ever brought anyone to meet me before besides Brian. And you don't even like bringing him into town."

"As you can see, I'm responsible for him," Helga gave a mock look of irritation and tugged on Arnold's rope. "Got anything to eat? I'm starving."

"I'll fix some tea."

Phoebe finally stopped staring at Arnold and lead them upstairs. Arnold looked back and forth between them as they talked to each other, mostly ignoring him now. Phoebe was small with shoulder length black hair and had pale skin beneath the patches of black soot all over her face. She smiled constantly though and her eyes glittered with excitement and happiness as she listened to Helga tell her about Arnold accidental kidnapping. If not for the fact that they looked nothing alike, Arnold could have assumed they were sisters.

Upstairs Phoebe led them into a living area above the smithy with old and exotic looking furnishings including varies swords and weaponry. There was also a low table, but instead of chairs, there were cushions placed around it.

"Please be seated," Phoebe gave them a graceful straight-backed bow, "I will close the shop and return momentarily with refreshments."

"Thanks, Pheebs," Helga called after her and collapsed lazily onto one of the cushions. She rose an eyebrow at Arnold as he stood there awkwardly, "What are you waiting for? Sit down."

"Um, of course," He shifted awkwardly though, trying to find the most dignified way of sitting on the floor.

Helga made an impatient noise and gave him a swift, yet gentle kick in the legs sending him toppling down.

"Ow!" He yelped and gave her a dry look, "Thanks,"

She only laughed and shrugged off the package on her back. She looked relaxed and lazy but the twitching of her fingers and the shifting of her eyes told her that she was nervous.

"You and Phoebe seem like good friends," he spoke to break the tension, "have you known each other long?"

"Years." Helga looked at him and smiled, "I lived with the Heyerdahls for some time before I joined the _Fox Hole_."

Arnold nodded, taking note of the fact that she was willingly giving him a free piece of her life, but trying not to betray the elation he felt. "She definitely seemed happy to see you."

"I miss it here sometimes," Helga looked around her with a smile, "I love them to death but their lifestyle is just a little too tame for my taste."

Arnold nodded again more than loving the fact that she was opening up to him like this. Too soon, Phoebe returned again with a tray loaded with a hot pot of tea, cups, and bread.

"Here, let me help you with that," Arnold jumped up and despite his bound wrists, he took the tray from Phoebe and carried it to the table for her.

Phoebe smiled in approval and sat down next to Helga, "He sure is a gentleman."

"I know, it's so annoying," Helga feigned another kick at him as he began pouring them tea. "You don't know how many times I've threatened him but he never turns it off. And unfortunately, he's the reason why this isn't a social visit."

With that, Helga reached behind her and placed her package on the table. Phoebe gave her a confused look but gasped when she opened it. It was Helga's sword, cut in two. Only a few inches of the blade remained attached to the hilt.

"W-what happened to it!?" Phoebe's soft voice went up several octaves. She looked at him across the table and he jumped at the sudden fire in her eyes. "Did you do this?"

"I-I..." He sputtered and looked to Helga for help but she only snickered, "I was protecting her!"

"By using my sword to block a broadsword!"

"He what!?" Phoebe's face was now completely red with fury, "You- you don't just take a O grade, specially crafted, katana blade with a double edge and saber and use it to block a broadsword. What were you thinking!?"

"I-I..."

" _This_ is how you use it."

She moved faster than Arnold could see. All he felt was a cool breeze and the ropes around his wrist fell off, cut clean through. His jaw dropped and Phoebe smiled at him, the hilt remainder of Helga's sword still in her hand.

"I apologize for losing my temper," Phoebe's soft-spoken demeanor returned as she rewrapped the remains of the sword, "We Heyerdahls take our craft very seriously. Not everyone gets the privilege of wielding one of our custom-made swords."

"Told you so," Helga shot him a smug smile.

Arnold resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her in return.

"In any case, the blade will have to be replaced completely," Phoebe continued, "but it is doable. It'll take some time though."

"We have a few days," Helga suddenly stood up, "I actually have an errand to run across the street. Mind watching him for me? I'd hate for him to get loose and make a mess."

Phoebe nodded her consent and Helga got up from the table. She patted Arnold on the head teasingly as she walked past him and he brushed her hand away, blushing. When he turned back to the table, he found Phoebe watching him with a smile, her chin in her hands.

"You two seem quite close," she noted with a twinkle in her eyes, "Helga seems quite fond of you."

Arnold chuckled sheepishly, remember both the kiss and her refusal to acknowledge it. He admitted with a sigh, "I'm sure she's only amused by me."

"I'm quite sure it's more than that," Phoebe insisted, "You noticed that she didn't bring Brian along to meet me. You think that perhaps she wanted to spend some time with you?"

Arnold could feel his face warm and a smile grow on his face. He had been hoping that was the case but her mixed signals still had him wary. He hoped Phoebe was right, but without a proper conversation between them, he couldn't be sure. But more pressing, he didn't know where they should go from here.

"But I must warn you of one thing," Phoebe's eyes hardened and her smile became dangerous, "If you hurt her, I'll take this sword and emasculate you myself."

"Phoebe darling, are you up there?" A voice called from downstairs.

"Yes mother," Phoebe's smile returned as she stood up, "Govenor Arnold, may I introduce you to my parents?"

His smile was a little shakier than hers but he nodded and allowed her to lead him downstairs. The Heyerdahls were wary of him at first, him being a governor and them making their business on associating with pirates which was a criminal offense almost as severe as piracy itself. But once Phoebe assured them that he was in no position to persecute them, they became as polite as their daughter. That is to say, they treated Arnold politely but with the subtle understanding that if he made a false or threatening move, they were more than capable of ending his life. When Helga returned they greeted her like a long-lost daughter making her look both sheepish and uncomfortable making Arnold laugh to see Helga squirm at their open display of affection. Mrs. Heyerdahl nearly had the same reaction as his daughter when he saw Helga's damaged sword, but his wife Reba assured Arnold that it was fixable. While Phoebe warmed up the heath again Helga spent time retelling the story of Arnold's accidental capture as well as the storm they endured and their run in with the Spanish merchant ship.

"So, if you can fix it as soon as you can that'd be great," Helga glanced out of the window and stood, "Thanks for the grub but we have to get going. I need to make sure my fellow crew members haven't killed my ward."

"Oh, but darling, you just got here," Reba pulled her into a tight hug, "can't you at least stay the night?"

"Loved to Reba but can't," Helga gently detangled herself from Reba's arms, "come on governor, let's go."

Arnold stood up and offered them all a bow, "It was a pleasure meeting all of you."

"The pleasure was ours, my lord," Mr. Heyerdahl returned his bow, "If you would like, perhaps you will permit me to teach you proper swords play. I am the one who taught Helga."

"Th-that be great thank you," Arnold felt genuine surprise at his generosity.

"You could use the help," Helga laughed and grabbed his arm pulling him along, "Come on my lord, there's one more person I want you to meet."

The streets were nearly completely dark by now, but more alive. Heavily made up women whistled at them from darkened doorways. Loud music and rambunctious yelling came from orange lit windows. It wasn't exactly the most romantic atmosphere but Arnold still enjoyed walking with Helga, feeling her arm brush against his. She walked him to the building Wolfgang and the others went in earlier. The tavern was the loudest one yet and most of the _Fox Hole_ crew were inside. Curly and Edmund were in the middle of a drinking contest with Edmund looking like he was one the losing end. Harold was currently on the third plate of mutton at his own table and in the corner Wolfgang was flirting with a busty brunette in his lap. There was a quite rasping sound and suddenly Brian was next to Helga smiling up her happily.

"Come on," Helga grabbed Arnold's hand and began leading him to an unoccupied table, "I'll but you drink, my lord. Best brewed ale in town."

The three of them sat down but before she could hail a waitress, another high-pitched squeal cut through the air. "Helga!"

"Oh no," Helga blushed and laughed in embarrassment, "I thought I'd get a chance to tell you about her first but-"

There was another squeal and suddenly someone through their arms around Helga from behind, practically jumping onto her back.

"L-Lila," Helga gasped out, "C-can't b-breathe!"

"Oh! I'm ever so sorry!"

Helga's assailant finally let go of her and stepped back. It was another young lady around their age, sweet-faced with red hair in two long braids and freckles. Her green checkered dress was hung off of one shoulder but was still more modest than some of the other waitresses. She beamed at Helga, not even noticing Arnold or Brian sitting at the table.

"I'm ever so glad you're back!" Lila gushed looking like she wanted to hug Helga again, "It's been ever so long since I've seen you."

"I've been busy. You know, piracy and all that," Helga gave a good-natured roll of her eyes, "Arnold, this is Lila. Lila, Arnold."

Arnold politely stood and offered her a polite bow, "A pleasure to meet you."

"Oh," Lila looked surprised and attempted a clumsy curtsy, "A-a pleasure, sir."

"Do me a favor and get us a couple of glasses of ale?" Helga pulled a silver piece out of a draw string bag, "And come join us so you can associate with civil company for a change."

"Right away Helga," Lila tucked the silver piece away and walked off to fill their order.

And as she walked Arnold noticed why her curtsy had been so awkward. Lila was limping; one leg from the knee down was made of wood. Helga must have noticed him staring because she nudged his arm.

"Don't stare," Helga whispered to him, "She gets enough jeers from everyone as it is."

Arnold obediently stopped staring, "She seems... sweet. Another friend of yours?"

"Whether I like it or not," But Helga was smiling and she patted Brian affectionately, "Sometimes I can't help but rescue strays."

"And... she was a stray?" Arnold smiled at Helga in admiration. "You're awfully generous for a blood thirsty pirate my lady. Has Lila always been... um..."

"Short a leg?" Helga offered bluntly, "As long as I've known her. I found her on the streets a village over." Her expression saddened for a moment, "Her village had been attacked and her dad was killed. I couldn't just leave her so I found her a job her. The proprietor owed me a favor. Phoebe was the one who fashioned the leg for her. But try not to mention it to her. She smothers me enough as it is."

"Maybe she's just grateful to you," Arnold suggested warmly.

Helga shrugged but she looked away happily.

"Here you are!" Lila returned with three mugs of ale, a glass of water for Brian and peered down at them with an excited smile, "So Arnold, how did you meet Helga? Are you two... together? What does Wolfgang think? What have you been up to?"

Arnold choked on his ale and Helga rolled her eyes, "He's a captive, no, and no one cares what Wolfgang thinks. And if you clam up for a minute I'll tell you."

Lila clamped her lips together, dropped down into a seat, and clapped her hands excited. Helga shot Arnold an amused look and began talking. As she regaled Lila with everything that had been happening since they saw each other last, Arnold sipped his ale in contentment. Spending the day with Helga, seeing how he wasn't the only one affected by her, made him wonder even more how he was going to go back to his life in Hillwood. Or even if he wanted to.


	12. Chapter 11

Feint left. Lunge. Parry. Keep feet apart, arms loose. Sharp rapping sounds as their wooden rapiers made contact. Fencing was a lot like sword fighting but with quicker and more precise movements. Mr. Heyerdahl was a petite man, but he was highly skilled, incredibly fast, and a good teacher. Arnold didn't even have time to wipe the sweat off his brow before Mr. Heyerdahl lunged at him again and Arnold had to twist his wrist in an attempt to parry it. But in a sudden blur, Mr. Heyerdahl swung his fist at Arnold, missing his face by a mere inch.

"Ah!" Arnold stumbled back in surprise, his feet tangled, and he fell on his rear.

Mr. Heyerdahl chuckled good-naturedly and offered a hand to help him up. "My apologies Sir Arnold, but I figured you should be used to foul play, dealing with pirates and all."

"I haven't had much practice at all, but thanks."

Arnold winced at the still present ache in his shoulder. It was healing and well bandaged, but exertion still made it sore. He took Mr. Heyerdahl's outstretched hand and stood, brushing the dirt off his rear end. It didn't do much for his appearance though considering he was drenched in sweat and was dirty all over. They had been sparing for a while now in the Heyerdahl's dirt backyard. The _Fox Hole_ crew had decided to make port at Providence to finish repairs on the ship sustained by the storm and sell the goods they had stolen from the merchant ship. Most of the crew was staying at the local taverns while Helga stayed here. At least, that's where she told the others she was staying. If it wasn't for Arnold's training with Mr. Heyerdahl, he would never see her. She had a tendency to disappear throughout the day and despite Arnold's best efforts, he was never able to find out where she always disappeared to. He took a moment to cast an eye up at the house. In one of the upstairs windows, he could just barely make out her figure along with Phoebe's. When she was here, Helga spent time nearly exclusively with her. Arnold tried not to feel too jealous, but...

"Would you like to take a break, my lord?" Mr. Heyerdahl guessed with a laugh.

Arnold's face flushed and he tried his best to feign innocence. "If that's what you want, sir. I mean, we have been working for a while."

Mr. Heyerdahl gave his assent with a bow which Arnold returned with an awkward nod and handed him the wooden sword. After spending so much time being ill-treated by the pirates, it was starting to feel awkward being treated with respect by Mr. And Mrs. Heyerdahl. It made him realize just how surreal his whole situation was. What would it feel like to go back to a world where everyone bowed before speaking to him? What would it feel like to stay in a world where his wrists were tied and he was pulled around like a pet by a beautiful, ferocious pirate?

Arnold shook his head, unable and unwilling to think that far ahead. There was nothing he could do either way but wait for Fate. Working the water pump until a cool stream of water burst out, he rolled up his dusty sleeves and submerged his forearms under the spray. Since they made port, everything seemed to be at a stand-still. There had been no word on his ransom letter, neither assent nor refusal from Port Hillwood. And Captain Roth hadn't said anything about what would happen to him if they didn't raise a ransom. He would probably become a slave to them. Or to her.

The thought made him glance up at the window again and he was disheartened to find that she was gone. Feeling his heart speed up, Arnold quickly splashed some water over his face and neck to rid himself of the musk of sweat and rushed into the house to catch her before she left. Inside, he could hear Mrs. Heyerdahl in the storefront talking to a customer, but there was no sign of Helga. The hearth was un-attended which meant that Phoebe could still be upstairs. He rushed upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time so he could ask her where Helga might have gone.

"Hey, Miss Pho-mph!"

A hand suddenly covered his mouth and he felt himself being pulled sideways, into a dark space. His back roughly hit was felt like shelves and he heard the clink of metal.

"Are you running like a dog hoping to find me, my lord?" A voice purred in the darkness.

"M-My lady?" Arnold blinked, trying to adjust to the low light. He seemed to be in a long narrow room, the only light coming from a small, high window. The shelves seemed to be filled with weapons and armor parts.

There was another soft, sly chuckle and Helga stepped forward crowding his space. Arnold wanted to take a step back for the sake of propriety, but secretly, he was pleased that there was no room for him to move. Even in the dim light, she was beautiful. Her smirk was teasing but her eyes were soft.

"I was just, um... I just wanted to make sure you had comfortable lodgings, my lady," He half lied, "I see you so rarely that I wondered where you disappear to every day."

"Liar," Helga breathed. Her arms came up on either side of his head to grab the shelves behind him, boxing him in. "I know you've been trying to follow me, my lord. Admit it."

They were close. He could feel the body heat coming off of her and he wondered if she could feel his heart about to beat its way out of his chest. His hands itched to touch her, but if this was all a game, and he was determined to beat her at it. _En garde._

"I don't know what you mean, my lady," He lowered his voice and stared directly back at her, "Perhaps this is some fantasy of yours?"

Helga leaned back a little, leading Arnold to believe that he may have won a point in flustering her. But then she scoffed and took another step back from him, the opposite of what he wanted.

"Though I am curious to know where you go to every day," He added quickly, hoping to draw her back.

"Are you now?" Helga's expression was hard to see in the dim light, but he detected amusement in her tone, "Just how curious are you?"

Before Arnold could think of a response, he felt her fingers slip underneath his shirt and slide across his abdomen. His muscles constricted at her touch and his breath hitched.

"Are you bursting with curiosity, my lord?" She whispered. She was close again, her lips brushing his ear, her cheek against his. "Would you give anything to know?"

"Yes." Arnold breathed, giving into her touch and giving up the game. He didn't even care what he was saying yes to. Feeling bold, he turned his head to brush his mouth against her ear, hoping to make the meaning of his next words clear. "I'll do anything, my lady."

"Oh?" Helga's head moved and her lips brushed his. His eyes closed and he waited for her kiss.

There was a breath of air and a sudden flood of light made Arnold wince and open his eyes. Helga was now standing by the open door. Fast as usual, she had moved before he even had a chance to register it. She gave him a devilish smirk, "What could you possibly give me, my lord? You're just a prisoner, remember?"

She disappeared with a mean laugh that set Arnold's blood on fire. It would serve her right if he repaid her unkindness. If he stoked the flames of her desire and just to leave her burning like she so loved doing to him. Arnold released his breath with a sigh. No, that wouldn't be the gentlemanly thing to do. No matter how he felt, he wouldn't stoop to her level. Even if he was more than tempted to grab her by the waist and-

"No," Arnold sighed again and shook his head, "A gentleman must never lay his hands on a lady unwarranted. No matter how... crazy Helga makes me."

Taking a moment to smooth out his hair and straighten his shirt, Arnold stepped out of the storage room and into the hallway. Helga was nowhere to be seen which meant she could be either downstairs or gone for the day as usual. Which was fine. If she wanted so little of his company, then he had no choice but to oblige her. He was more than happy to spend the rest of the day training with Mr. Heyerdahl.

Stepping out into the yard again, Arnold realized that this was actually perfect. One thing that he remembered was that she hated to be ignored. So how would she react if he started ignoring her for real? With the idea set in mind, he made his way over to Mr. Heyerdahl only to find Helga casually chatting with him. A smile started but then immediately stopped on his face. He schooled his expression into one cool detachment and only then approached them.

"Ah, my lord," Mr. Heyerdahl greeted him with a bow, "shall we continue our lesson? Helga says that she would love to observe."

Arnold let his eyes linger on her for a moment but he looked away as if it didn't matter to him. "If she so wishes."

"I do so wish," Helga's tone held only a hint of irritation, "I'd like to see if you have any... skills. With your sword I mean."

Arnold's face flushed and his head snapped to her before he could stop himself. Helga gave him her infamous smirk, triumphing in making him break his indifferent façade. He did his best to ignore her again, picked up his fencing sword, and got into ready position in front of Mr. Heyerdahl.

"When you are ready sir," He said tightly.

Mr. Heyerdahl bowed and got into ready position, " _En Garde_!"

He lunged forward but Arnold jumped back to keep from being hit. He feigned to the right and then went left, aiming the point of his wooden sword at Mr. Heyerdahl's shoulder. He parried and tried to use the momentum to twist the wooden rapier out of his hand. But Arnold moved with the momentum, swinging his body around so that he was now behind his opponent. Mr. Heyerdahl was just as fast though and nearly got him with a sharp, backhanded swing. Arnold was far from done though. Helga was watching him and he was _not_ going to give her something else to tease him about. He kept his feet moving and his focus sharp. If Mr. Heyerdahl had any clue of his real intentions or sympathized with him, he gave no sign. If anything, Mr. Heyerdahl seemed to fight against him even harder than before, wearing the same patient smile that he had before.

"You seemed to have improved, my lord," Mr. Heyerdahl said with only a hint of breathlessness, "Perhaps your... motivations have improved?"

Arnold heard Helga giggle behind him and he felt his teeth clench. Sweat began to sting his eyes and the back of his shirt began to feel damp. He took a quick couple of steps back to distance himself from his opponent.

"Sir, may I?" He requested, tugging at his shirt.

Mr. Heyerdahl nodded his consent and Arnold stripped off his shirt. He pretended not to hear the sharp intake of breath from a certain blonde pirate. Satisfied nonetheless, he returned to the first position. Perhaps it was the change in body temperature or the brief respite, but Arnold felt his second wind return.

"Wait."

Arnold straightened and looked up in surprise. Helga, her eyes locked on Arnold and a devious look in her eyes went over to Mr. Heyerdahl. She spoke to him but her eyes never left Arnold.

"May I sir?" She asked holding out her hand.

"If you so wish," Mr. Heyerdahl nodded and handed her his rapier.

Arnold's jaw dropped as he realized exactly what she intended, He hesitated, "My lady..."

Showing off in front of her was one thing. But part of him was still frustrated with her earlier antics and combined with the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins from sparing with Mr. Heyerdahl, he didn't know how much he would be able to hold back. Helga must have been able to read all that in his hesitation because she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Relax, my lord," she chuckled, "I've fought among pirates half my life. I doubt you can do me much harm. Even with training from pops here."

Arnold's hesitation diminished greatly at her haughty tone. He could always so easy on her. He raised his rapier again and got into the first position. "Whenever you're ready, my lady."

Helga rose an eyebrow at his change in tone and shared a look with Mr. Heyerdahl, "Oooh, I think I made him mad."

"Go easy on him, please," Mr. Heyerdahl replied, "He's only just begun."

"And what better way to teach him then?" Helga chuckled.

Arnold tensed, expecting her to now get into the first position, but again he was floored. Instead of preparing to spar with him, Helga began to untie the front of her dress. Heat slammed to Arnold's face and he turned away hastily.

"Mm-my Lady!"

"Oh, relax my overly pampered, highly sheltered lord," Helga laughed and when he dared to look, he saw her calmly pulling off the top half of her dress revealing a sleeveless chemise underneath. Mr. Heyerdahl calmly took her dress and stepped back raising his hand. Only then did Helga get into the first position. Arnold swallowed hard but made the extreme effort to keep his eyes on her face and got back into the first position again.

"And..." Mr. Heyerdahl backed up a couple of steps to give them room, "En Garde!"

Helga leaped at him faster than Arnold had a chance to react. He stumbled back, feeling the harsh shudder go through his arm as her sword made contact with his. _Get it together Arnold!_ He gritted his teeth and tensed his muscles to fight back. He swung his sword at her to fend her off and then lunged. His aim was for the right, her upper arm in fact. But then as she sifted to avoid him, his eyes drifted to the front of her chemise and he stumbled. He realized his mistake and knew what was coming but that didn't stop his cry of pain as her sword hit him in the back. Arnold straightened quickly, mentally kicking himself for getting distracted.

"My lord you disappoint me," Helga chuckled, circling him, "To think that you'd be so easily distracted by something so trivial."

"It's far from trivial, my lady," Arnold replied without thinking. He almost regretted it if not for the light blush that spread across her cheeks.

Helga lunged at him again without warning, barely giving him time to parry. She moved faster this time, her eyes focused with only a small hint of amusement in them. Arnold could only parry and barely that. With Mr. Heyerdahl and even Edmund, he was able to read at least some of their movements and give a few counters of his own. But with Helga it was different. Regardless of her apparent ease, Arnold was still a gentleman and couldn't allow himself to stare at her (no matter how tempted he was). So focused he was on not letting his eyes wander to inappropriate places, that he couldn't watch the movements of her sword very well.

At a crucial movement their swords locked and suddenly they were face to face.

"What are you doing?" She asked breathlessly, "Is it really that hard to fight me?"

"Is it really so hard to be kind to me?" He countered, "We could get along so much better if you were."

Helga smiled and pushed him away, breaking their hold, "If you defeat me, I just might."

"Is that a promise?"

"You have my word."

It was the word of a pirate, but it was good enough for him. With a new incentive before him, Arnold allowed himself to push aside his gentlemanly instincts and even his baser ones. He sharpened his focus and reset his stance. This time when Helga lunged at him, he was ready. She came at him from the left, crossing right and aimed low for his hip. Arnold caught her rapier with his and swung upwards, hoping to disarm her. But her grip was firm and she went with the momentum bringing them face again.

"Hmm, you have improved," Helga laughed, "You must really want me to be nice to you."

She thrust her arm out hitting his chest with the flat of her palm. Arnold cried out in shock and stumbled back.

"Point!" Mr. Heyerdahl yelled.

Arnold's mouth dropped open, stunned, "B-but- she-"

"I told you when fighting with pirates, they may not always fight fair," Mr. Heyerdahl chuckled.

Arnold felt an angry pout form on his face and reset himself into the first position. Helga grinned and did the same.

"Ready?" Mr. Heyerdahl lifted his hand again, "And..."

This time, Arnold didn't wait for him and immediately lunged at forward, striking Helga into the shoulder.

"Point!"

"You- you _connard!"_ Helga flushed angrily and placed a hand on the place where Arnold had struck her, "That was my breast!"

"No, it wasn't!" Arnold felt his face flush as well, "I hit your shoulder!"

"En Garde!"

They leaped at each other again, both trying to hit the other and avoid being hit. Arnold noticed that Helga fought a little differently than Mr. Heyerdahl. His recent teacher used the rapier as an extension of his arm but kept his body as far away from Arnold as he could. Helga was fast like him but seemed to throw her whole body into each of her strikes. It should have left her more open to attacks but since Arnold was keeping his body away from her, he never seemed to make it in time to land any blows. But he was hanging in there. This was his chance to both earn Helga's respect and earn some kindness from her as well.

"I'm not giving up, my lady," Arnold panted, "But to think, we could have spent time together doing something much more pleasant."

She arched an eyebrow, "Is that a _suggestion,_ my lord?"

Her tone was more of a suggestion in itself. Arnold faltered and she almost hit him in the chest which he barely managed to side-step. He swung, just reacting to her proximity and the fact that she was open to attack. He aimed too low though and watched in horror, as if in slow motion, as the rapier swung down and thwapped Helga right on the rear end.

"AHH!" Helga squealed and whirled around, matching Arnold's look of utmost shock, "Did you just-"

"Point!" Mr. Heyerdahl yelled.

Arnold rapidly shook his head, "My lady I-"

She didn't give him a chance to answer and lunged at his head. Arnold parried and countered her attack, fearing the new fire in her eyes. Now she was the one with the second wind, coming at Arnold faster than before.

"My lady- I insist- it was- an accident!"

"Like hell it was!"

"You know that I would never-"

"Like hell, you wouldn't! You're a man, aren't you?"

"But I'm a gentleman first!"

And he was, he really was. He didn't even want to be fighting Helga in the first place, but as she thrust forward, aiming for his head no doubt, he saw an opening he could take. As she went high, he shot out his foot and tangled hers. Helga cried out in surprise as she fell forward and Arnold moved in front of her to catch her. She fell faster and harder than he was expecting and they both crashed to the ground. His head hit the ground hard and he saw stars. It took him a minute to shake his daze and realize that Helga was still laying on top of him. He was all too aware of his rapid pulse and the way her breath fanned across his collarbone as she stirred with a groan and lifted her head. They came face to face. Her intense blue eyes stared into him. Arnold swallowed nervously, expecting any moment for her to explode at him. But something passed through her eyes, something soft, and Arnold had a sudden revelation. Helga had been fighting for years, he'd been training for two days. There was no possible way he was anywhere near her level. Which meant that she let him win. A smile bloomed on his face and she rolled her eyes.

"Sap," Helga mumbled but made no move to get off him.

"Game Arnold!" Mr. Heyerdahl declared.

"What!?" This time Helga did roll off him and glared at Mr. Heyerdahl, "How?"

He nodded at Arnold, "He still has his weapon. You do not."

Arnold looked down and saw that he did still have his rapier in his hand. Helga had dropped hers when they crashed.

"Hmph, cheats," Helga huffed and stood up.

Arnold quickly stood up with her and offered her a bow, "My lady, I apologize for my roughness. I hope there are no bad feelings between us?"

Helga laughed at him, taking the top part of her dress from Mr. Heyerdahl, "Has anyone dained to tell you to your face that you take yourself way too seriously, my lord?"

"Only you," He smiled fondly.

Again, she only rolled her eyes at him, but she didn't tease him this time. Carrying her dress over her arm, she walked over to him and patted him on his still bare chest. "Get dressed unless you're planning on walking around in such _scant_ attire."

Her hands dragged across his chest as she walked past him and headed to the water pump. Arnold quickly picked up his shirt from the ground and followed after her. She started the water pump first and began splashing her face and neck. Arnold bit his lip, fighting himself, and respectfully turned his back to give her some privacy.

"You really are too good for your own good," Helga hummed.

"I value your comradeship," Arnold peaked over his shoulder to see that she was finally trying her dress back on. He stepped over to the water pump to splash his chest and neck, "And because I value your comradeship. That means respecting your personage as well."

She didn't comment on that but he felt her fingertips ghost across the back of his shoulders, raising goosebumps. When he looked up though she was already moving towards the house. She glanced at him over her shoulder, "You coming?"

Arnold quickly pulled on his shirt and followed her to the house. Inside, she grabbed a small leather satchel off of the table, waved goodbye to Phoebe and her mother who were working in the front of the store, and headed out the front door with him following close behind. The port town was only slightly less busy during the daylight hours. The drunks were nowhere to be seen, probably in taverns getting their fill, or in inns sleeping off their drunken stupors. But rough men were still roaming the streets, burly shopkeepers called out what weapons they had for sale, their wives what goods they had, and children dressed in rags ran amuck. It wasn't the ideal place Arnold would choose to spend time with a lady, but he supposed he had to take what he could get.

"This town is so very different from my own, and yet I also see similarities between them," He mused out loud. He didn't add that in this port it seemed that the businesses here seemed to be doing better than the ones back home.

Helga shrugged, "The more you travel the more you realize that people are basically the same. Doing whatever it takes to get by or get ahead."

"Not everyone is like that," He smiled at her fondly and offered her his arm, "Now where may I escort you?"

"Oh, spare me the flowery speech," Helga rolled her eyes and lowered his arm, "you aren't _escorting_ me anywhere. I'm just letting you tag along with me so you'll stop whining."

"Whatever you say, my lady."

They strolled through the streets together with something more than just companionable air between them. She wasn't saying much but there was a small smile on her face that made Arnold wonder if she enjoyed being around him just as much as he enjoyed being around her. He also wondered if she was as nervous as he was. Did pirates ever court? He himself had always been so busy, with first his grandparents and then with his governing duties, that he never attempted courting anyone before. His manservant Robert taught him how to be courteous, polite, and well-mannered, but he had even less experience with women than Arnold had. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

"Isn't it a lovely day for a stroll?" He started looking around him, "The sky is so beautiful, it reminds me of-"

"My eyes?" Helga fluttered her lashes dramatically, "Really, my lord. Surely you have better material than that."

"No, I was going to say it reminds me of the sea," Arnold floundered a bit, as that had been exactly what he was going to say. "Not that your eyes aren't beautiful of course."

Suddenly, Helga's face became serious, "Tell me something real. No flattery. No polite-talk. No Lord Governor Shortman."

Arnold bit his lip and glanced away for a moment considering. No flattery and no polite-talk? What else did he have? Boring talk about paperwork, floundering budgets, and committee meetings. A seagull suddenly wheeled into his view, giving a loud cry. Arnold smiled and turned back to Helga.

"One of my favorite things to do back home is sneak out and walk along the beach under the cliffs," He chuckled thinking about it, "Used to drive the servants crazy. For the first year and a half, they thought I had been... kidnapped."

They looked at each other then and burst out laughing. It wasn't really that funny, it shouldn't have been that funny. But the irony was there. What should have been the worst situation to happen him was the best thing to ever to him.

"You hungry?" Helga asked, "Come on, let's get you something to eat."

Arnold felt his heart jump as her fingers closed around his. She pulled him over to a stall selling food items.

"What are those?" He pointed at what looked like round, brownstones covered in fuzz, "Furry rocks?"

"What? These?" Helga dropped his hand to pick one up and the look she gave him was partly incredulous, "Kiwi's haven't made it to Port Hillwood yet?"

"Kee-wees?" Arnold repeated and gingerly took the item from her. It was lighter than he expected it to be and handling it carefully he could tell that it was soft. The fur was like a bristle, rough and short.

"You gonna buy it or what?" The woman tending the stall snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your socks on lady," Helga handed the woman a few coins from her bag and snatched up a couple of more kiwis, tucking those in her bag. Helga took Arnold's hand again and they found a little area in the sun to eat in peace, sitting on spare crates. Helga then produced a small dagger and took Arnold's kiwi from him. "Here, let me show you."

She cut a thick wedge from the fruit revealing bright green flesh underneath the skin. Arnold didn't even bother to hide his gasp.

"Only eat the green part," she instructed, handing the wedge to him.

He hesitated. She gave a semi-impatient sigh behind a smile and cut another wedge for herself. She ate it without hesitation leaving only the brown layer. Now Arnold took a bite for himself and nearly choked.

"It's so sweet!" He exclaimed, "And juicy! How has my port not received this delicacy already?"

Helga giggled at his excitement, producing another knife and a kiwi so he could continue eating without her assistance. He watched her carefully, copying the way she separated the flesh of the fruit from the skin, and eat with the knife without cutting herself.

"You know, your port is locked down pretty tight," she explained after a while, "If I remember correctly, these little beauties were brought in our side of the seas when a pirate crew from the east made an emergency port at a non-pirate safe dock. In exchange for not hanging them, the crew guarding the dock that night got a crate of the pirates more exotic wares. Tell m, governor, do you think that sort of thing could ever happen in Port Hillwood?"

Arnold immediately shook his head, "No. It's pretty much drilled into us that if any pirate or pirate affiliate steps foot in Port Hillwood they should be immediately thrown in jail. I can't think of anyone who would willingly break that rule."

"I guess visiting you is out of the question then?"

She smirked when she said it, but Arnold shifted uncomfortably and stuffed his face with more fruit. He didn't want to think about what would happen if- But there was no reason to think of that. Instead, he thought more about this strange, tasty fruit and its origins. There would definitely be a boost in exports if Port Hillwood could get their hands on these. What else out there were they missing on?

"You know, I just thought of something," he said, "these kiwis are a lot like you, my lady."

"Really?" Helga looked at him in utter surprise, "how?"

"Well, even though they're rough on the outside, they're sweet on the inside," He spared her a smirk, "Though of course, you're also very beautiful on the outside too."

Helga turned crimson and busied herself with her fruit, trying to pretend that he hadn't fazed her. Which he totally knew he did. "You really are hopeless, my lord."

"I know," Arnold laughed. He went back to his earlier thoughts though, "If you would allow me a hypothetical question- if you were to ever become weary of piracy, would you perhaps consider a life of privateering instead?"

Helga seemed to consider the prospect seriously for a moment, her lips pursed in thought.

"Maybe," she said finally, with a shrug. She went back to eating, "If I had a good reason."

"Hmm," Arnold hummed under his breath, "a good reason indeed."

* * *

 **A/N- Hey everyone! Trying really hard to come back to this stories and others that I had in progress for forever. I actually do have some new HA stories I eventually want to do but I promised myself that I would finish my WIPs before I started anything new. Consider this a bridging chapter to get me back into the mood of this story. Hope you enjoy :)**


	13. Chapter 13

The _Fox Hole_ was fully watered and all repairs had been made. The fallen masts had been restored to their rightful positions and the ripped sails had been replaced. Arnold, Brian, and Helga sat together on the Heyerdahl's roof watching the _Fox Hole_ bob gently away from the docks. The crew must have been rowing or caught a sideways current because the sails were closed and they moved against the weak wind.

"Are you sure it's alright that we stayed behind?" Arnold asked, "Doesn't a ship need the entire crew?"

"Relax my lord, we aren't going far," Helga stood up, making Arnold's chest constrict in fear. She seemed to have no heed for her safety though and held a hand out to help Brian up. "They're just going up the coast a bit. Captain Roth wants to visit dear old wifey outside the port."

"Captain Roth has a wife?"

"That's what I said."

Arnold carefully stood up too and made his way to the window, following Helga and Brian inside the house. "If he has a wife then why doesn't she sail with us- um, I mean, you?"

"Not built for a life of piracy I suppose," Helga shrugged with a smirk, "Not all women are like yours truly."

"No woman is like you, my lady." He responded with a fond smile.

Brian made a gagging noise and mimicked throwing up. Helga chuckled and ruffled his hair. The three of them headed downstairs where the Heyerdahl's were minding the shop and keeping the hearth burning bright. Helga shared a tearful farewell (at least on Phoebe's end) with the family and re-sheathed her newly repaired sword.

"We have something for you as well, my lord," Mr. Heyerdahl handed him a long packaged wrapped in brown cloth. "Please, accept it as a token of friendship from our family."

Arnold took the package with trembling hands and slowly unwrapped it. He knew even before the last strip of cloth came away what it was. The handle was dark gleaning wood and burnished red leather. The sheath black leather with a red shoulder strap. The sword was almost silent as he unsheathed it, the broad blade shone a dark silver. The crest of a fox tail was engraved beautifully at the base. Arnold felt tears bead in his eyes as he carefully re-sheathed it and strapped it over his back.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "I shall treasure this always."

"May we meet again in the future."

Arnold started to bow to them, but the family stepped forward and wrapped him in a loving hug. The tears finally spilled over Arnold's cheeks as he hugged them back.

"Alright, that's enough you saps," Helga chuckled as they broke apart, "We have to get going before Captain Roth gets impatient and threatens to keel-haul us again."

With a final tearful goodbye, extra snacks, promises over and over again to visit soon, they finally made their way outside where Captain Roth and Wolfgang were waiting in a single horse wagon loaded with goods. Helga was right, the captain was anxious to get going and so was Wolfgang. The fit was tight but comfortable with the captain riding the reins, Wolfgang in the seat beside him, and Helga and Arnold sandwiching Brian between them in the back. As the wagon rattled up the road, and Port Providence began to grow smaller as they left it behind, Arnold felt content but didn't know why. They were soon to leave civilization, to another place unknown perhaps, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of total and absolute peace.

* * *

Gerald was in a state of total and complete agitation. The ship had slowed to a crawl, the wind had died down and the current was not swift. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon setting the ocean ablaze in reds and oranges, but Gerald wasn't interested in enjoying the view. The only thing he was interested in seeing was the sight of Port Providence growing larger as they neared it. The hackles on the back of his neck stood up. Port Providence was known as Pirate Haven for a reason. A town of nothing but debauchery, depravity, and worst of all pirates, the scum of the seas. The thought of his best friend, a man without a single vice in the world, being held captive, maybe even tortured there made Gerald's blood boil. His hatred for pirates had been reignited. When he found the blasted pirates that took his best friend, his brother for Pete's sake, he was going to make them pay. He was going to make all those sons of whores pay.

"Ugh!" Gerald groaned in frustration and forced himself to move away from the railing.

They were getting closer but he was becoming more anxious. He was starting to be able to see the ships at the docks. But it was getting dark soon too. If a town like this wasn't dangerous enough already, it was probably twice as dangerous at night. Gerald couldn't care less, but there was the possibility that the Commodore might deem landing right away as an unnecessary risk and might wait to dock in the morning.

"I can't let him," Gerald decided, "I have to convince him to push forward."

He walked with determination and purpose off the deck and below, heading to the commodore's personal office. Just as he feared, most of the crew appeared to be either asleep or settling down for the night. They didn't look anywhere near the fierce and efficient navy men ready to take back a governor from loathsome pirates. The door to the commodore's office was cracked. Gerald took a breath to give himself a calmer and more professional appearance and lifted his hand to knock.

"This is unacceptable," The commodore's voice was cold and angry, "What do you mean the _Black Viper_ isn't docked here?"

"Our lookout hadn't spotted their ship at the docks yet," Captain Douglas answered, "Perhaps they're running a bit behind schedule. I'm sure we can accommodate for the-"

"No, no, no, the timing would be off," Commodore Bassett growled in frustration, "Vincent was supposed to have killed those blasted foxes by now! And that foolish governor with them!"

Gerald stifled a gasp. His stomach dropped and his blood went cold. He couldn't have heard that right. It just wasn't- it didn't possibly make sense-

"It could be possible to rescue the governor and achieve the same results," Captain Douglas suggested.

There was the sound of a lot of small objects hitting the floor, "Not good enough! A rescue is mundane, but a martyr is what we need to garner support. With the death of that naïve, foolish governor, the whole world I'll be begged to relieve the world of pirates for good."

There was a pause and then a weary sigh, "We'll have to wait for Vincent then. Turn us parallel with the currents. And if he doesn't have the skill to do it, I suppose I'll have to take a blade to Governor Shortman myself."

Thick, acidic bile rose up Gerald's throat and his hand went to his sword hilt. There was nothing he wanted more at this moment than to run Commodore Bassett through and then fling his corpse over for the fish to consume the remains. But he had something more important to do. He moved with new purpose, time was now of the essence. The first stars were beginning to come out by the time he made his way on deck. The ship was still moving but he knew that once the commodore's order went out they would stall.

"Heya Gerald," A familiar twang called out, "Oh, I mean, sir Johanssen."

Gerald looked over to see Stinky and Sid scrubbing the deck. No one else seemed to be around. Perfect. He forced himself to walk over to them calmly just in case, leaned against the railing and spoke in a low voice.

"You two, keep doing what you're doing and listen up."

Stinky and Sid tensed and gave him confused looks but obeyed.

"That _bastard_ the commodore plans on killing Arnold," Gerald's fists clenched, dropping all formal pretense, "And as much as I would love string Bassett up myself, we might have a chance to save Arnold."

"But why would the commodore want to kill Governor Arnold?" Sid asked, "Isn't he on our side?"

"I don't care to know the reason why," Gerald growled and moved with purpose to the lifeboats, "But what I need you two to do right now is to cover me. I'm getting off this ship so I can warn him. Think you two can handle that?"

"Aye, aye sir."

"You got it, buddy."

Sid and Stinky both saluted him without hesitation, but Gerald had no question of their loyalty. Even with their bumbling, laziness, and general idiocy, he knew that their hearts were always good.

Armed with only his rifle and sword at his side, Gerald climbed into an unguarded lifeboat and began to lower himself into the water. Sid and Stink began talking loudly beside the railing about nothing in particular in order to drown out the sound of the rope and pulleys. Despite his urgency, Gerald slowed down in order to set the boat as gently as possible into the water. This would be the most difficult part. If anyone were to look out of their port window, they would surely see his boat. He would also have to mind the splash of the oars on the water. But the risk of being caught was worth it for his best friend.

While the ship was close enough to see the docks of Pirate Haven, they hadn't yet broken over the calm breakers. So the choppy waves had their way his small craft. Many a time did Gerald thought he would be swallowed by the dark waters. His arms strained with the effort it took to row through them. He nearly went under, but finally broke through and began to glide on the calmer waters. Gerald glanced back at the naval, tall and imposing in the rapidly fading light. There didn't seem to be any movement onboard, no alarming lights, so he felt a sense of relief that his escape hadn't been detected.

"Hold on, buddy," He whispered, "I'm coming."

* * *

Captain Roth's wife, Shelia Roth, was a large buxom woman with a cloud of curly, light blonde hair. She greeted her husband at the door with a scream as loud as his yell and they embraced with an intensity of two colliding mountains, with poor Wolfgang caught in the middle. Her reception was less warm to Helga. She scooped up a squirming Brian and nearly crushed him. And Arnold she seemed genuinely confused by.

"Who in Davy Jone's Locker is this?" She said peering at him.

Arnold smiled at her and began to bow, "Ma'am, my name is-"

Shelia made a noise with her teeth and roughly grabbed him by the arm, yanking him to her for closer inspection. She kept tsking with her tongue and examined his arms, the top of his head end, and behind his ears.

"This is the scrawniest, supple-skinned pirate that I've ever seen," She declared and gave Arnold a slap on the rear.

"Hey!" Arnold blushed scarlet, "Madam!"

"Watch, it Shelia," Helga growled, her hand going to the dagger on her hip.

Mrs. Roth ignored them both and turned to her husband, "Where did you find this sorry excuse for a pirate, dear? Or is he meant to be shark meat?"

Wolfgang snickered, "Good one, mom."

"Hush boy," Captain Roth smacked his son upside the head before answering his wife, "That lad is a governor of a poky little port. He's supposed to fetch me a neat little ransom but his port is playing cheap with me. So, I've had him earn his keep and his life."

"Ha! Work? What work can this puny runt do?" Shelia laughed and slapped him hard on the back, making him stumble.

Arnold had the grace to attempt to laugh off her mocking but Helga looked ready to snap. Her hand still hadn't moved from her dagger.

"Aye! I'll tell ye, my love, there was a time where I thought I would have to throw the lab overboard," He laughed and also clapped Arnold on the back making him actually fall. "But wife, I have worked up a mighty appetite that only your cooking can sate."

"The roast is just about ready. We shall sup and you can tell me all about it husband."

Roth family began to move into the dining room, laughing and chattering. Helga came over to Arnold as he struggled to stand up and catch his breath again. She didn't move to help him up but wore as fond look in her eyes as she smiled down at him.

"For what it's worth, my lord," She giggled, "I think you've come a long way from being the runt you were before we captured you."

Arnold rolled his eyes but stood up with a smile, "You flatter me, my lady."

They joined the others at the table as Mrs. Roth was serving dinner. A large roast, so large that Arnold could only imagine how big the creature it came from must have been, sat in the center. The dish was flanked by platters of vegetables and a mountain of bread rolls.

"This meal is huge," Arnold whispered to Helga as they sit down, "Does she cook like this every night?"

"Only when the captain comes to visit," Helga whispered back, "We come about the same time every year. If we're off by a day or two her house becomes a tavern and sells the food. Then she starts over. Apparently, the town goes crazy over her meals. I think they're alright."

Dinner was soon served and Arnold learned first-hand that Helga wasn't giving Mrs. Roth her due. Maybe it was the weeks he spent at sea, eating nothing but hardtack and salty sea stew, but after one bite, Arnold found himself ravenous. Being the governor of a struggling port, Arnold ate well enough, but not to the extent he knew that other governors probably enjoyed. His food was refined and delicate, this food was hearty and rich. Arnold tried hard to retain his noble mannerisms, but in truth the only one who really ate with a modem of decorum was Helga. Arnold's only saving grace may have been that he at least wasn't eating with their mouth full.

Over the meal, Captain Roth regaled his wife with the adventures of the _Fox Hole._ Sieges and battles, victories and defeats. Although far from the most notorious or largest group of pirates, Arnold did learn that the _Fox Hole_ crew was pretty well known for being one of the more elusive pirate crews in these sees. Not only were they known for their fierce fighting and reckless sailing, but they had an ace up their sleeve; Helga. As it turned out, Helga often helped to supplement the pirates' haul by sneaking into towns, blending in, and stealing away with goods with none the wiser. So many things finally began to click in Arnold's mind. Her disappearance from the ship only to come back with goods, her being so sure that the Lloyds were in Port Hillwood. Arnold stared at Helga in shock. How had he not noticed her? Lady Roth though was less impressed.

"Hmph, common thievery if you ask me," Mrs. Roth scoffed, "And little good it did ye. The Lloyds would have been a fine catch for a ransom. Instead, you're saddled with a paltry governor of a paltry port."

Helga exploded, slamming her hands on the table, "Shelia! I swear to Davy Jones-"

"That'll be a swear you can take to his face, lassy!" Mrs. Roth screamed back.

"Peace to ye both lassies," Captain Roth laughed at them both. He turned to his wife with a loving smile, "My love, it wasn't all for naught. The lad proved more useful than he looks. It was because of him we were able to escape the clutches of a massive storm."

The way Captain Roth retold the events, Arnold had been eagled eyed and intuitive during the storm. He had been the resolute, but calm voice amidst the chaos of the storm. Arnold struggled not to laugh at the inaccurate rendition. All Arnold remembered of the event was the horrified awe he felt at the sheer power of the storm and the fear he felt at the thought of losing Helga. When Captain Roth finished his story though, he fixed Arnold with a thoughtful look. After a moment he nodded to himself and slammed his fist on the table.

"Aye! You!" Captain Roth jabbed a meaty finger at Arnold, "Come with me lad."

Arnold glanced at Helga nervously and she gave him a bored half- shrug. Captain Roth gave him no time to ask questions though. He stood up from the table, plucked Arnold out of his seat, and carted him upstairs.

"Boy, Imma tell you something that I don't tell a lot of people," the captain said as they climbed a rickety spiral staircase, "Because I don't see a lot of people who have this. But you've got a gift."

"A gift for what sir?" Arnold panted trying to keep up with him. The stairs seemed to climb higher and higher and creaked under the captain's heavy steps.

"Knowing the seas, boy!"

Captain Roth flung open a door at the top of the staircase, revealing a room full of maps. Maps pinned to the walls. Maps hanging off strings off the ceiling. And in the center of the room, was a large circular table covered with more maps.

Arnold found himself truly speechless. A pang of homesickness and nostalgia, struck him so sharply and so deeply, that he staggered and tears nearly came to his eyes. But he wasn't thinking about his governor's mansion in Hillwood. He was thinking about his real home, and how his parents would have loved to have had a room like this. _He_ already loved this room.

Captain Roth nodded, looking at his expression, "Aye, that's the look. The look of a man who hungers to explore. To know the seas without taming her. An eye for the shifting winds and the ever-changing tide. You ain't worth two spits as a pirate, but with some training, you might have some salt as a sailor. Now let's see just how much you know."

* * *

Every eye was on him and every one of those eyes was hostile. Gerald kept his head up though, and his hand on his sword hilt as he looked around. The tavern was crowded and loud. Men and boys were drinking, fighting, playing cards, or passed out. Some of the women gave him coy looks, others dirty sneers. He knew that his uniform, however, frayed it was, was giving him away, but he never thought to sneak in with civilian clothes. He didn't think he needed to. He was supposed to have an armada with him to rescue Arnold. Not sneaking around a filthy tavern surrounded by loathsome pirates. If it was up to him, he'd haul every mother's son of them to the gallows.

"But it isn't up to me," He sighed in frustration and sank into a chair in the corner, "Thanks to that traitor Basset, I have to save Arnold alone. I'll worry about getting us home later."

And the sooner the better. Gerald kept a careful eye around him, trying to spot or at least recognize any of the pirates that tried to destroy his home. But at first glance, he could see it wasn't much use. Aside from the large, blonde pirate that knocked him out, Gerald couldn't remember what a single one of them looked like. All pirates looked the same to him. Filthy, uncultured, dishonorable men. The women that followed them weren't much better either. Two of them, their dresses half falling off, were trying to help some poor drunken fool up the steps. Typical. Gerald rolled his eyes and continued looking around until something not so typical caught his eye. A girl, pale skinned with raven hair, also sat alone at a table. Unlike Gerald, she was looking around her with a small smile as if amused by the ruckus. Her gaze shifted to him and he let his eyes pass away coldly. Cute or not, he had no time to waste on pirate sympathizers.

"Can I get you something, sir?"

Gerald looked up to see another cute girl, young with freckles and red hair, smiling down at him. She looked so much softer than some of these other women, that he almost asked what she was doing in a tavern like this until his eyes fell unto her wooden leg. Poor thing probably had no choice but to accept this wretched life.

"Some ale or some company perhaps?" The barmaid continued, "You look lonely."

Gerald nodded, "That's because I'm looking for my friend. His name is Arnold Shortman, governor of Port Hillwood."

"A governor huh?" The girl's innocent expression suddenly became guarded despite her friendly smile, "We don't get a lot of those out here. You sure he came this way?"

"Pretty sure," Gerald narrowed his eyes. Guess this girl wasn't as innocent as she looked. "He was kidnapped recently by a group of pirates. Ones with an orange fox on their flag. Have you seen any of them recently?"

The barmaid's smile became forced and her gaze darted to his navy insignia and back at him, "No sorry. I'll go get you some ale."

She started to walk away but Gerald grabbed her arm, "Wait a minute." He stood up slowly, hoping to intimidate her with his height, "Look, miss, I get that you feel like you have no choice but to protect these cretins. But I need to find Governor Shortman. He's in grave danger and he has to be warned before _he_ finds him."

There was a gasp behind him, and Gerald turned to see the cute Asian girl behind him holding a large dagger.

"Arnold's in danger?" She asked in genuine concern, "By whom? Who's after him?"

"A naval commodore by the name of Gabriel Bassett." Gerald eyed the knife in her hand and let go of the barmaid. He had no doubt that this girl had snuck up on him with the intention of doing him harm with that knife in her hand. He eyed her warily. "If you know the whereabouts of the pirates who took him, I need you to tell me now."

The girl rose an eyebrow and her grip on her dagger tightened, "Excuse me, but I need you to change your tone of voice sir. You are addressing a lady."

"A lady?" Gerald leveled her glare with a glare of his own, "A true lady wouldn't dain to spend her time here."

"Will both of you stop it!" The barmaid suddenly stepped between them. She turned to the dark-haired girl, "If sir Arnold really is in danger it could mean Helga is too. We have to help him."

The girl sighed in annoyance but re-sheathed her dagger, "As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. But we'll have to hurry. They left town earlier today but I can take you to them."

Gerald took a moment to close his eyes feeling a wave of pure relief. Once again, he was getting closer to finding his best friend. He wasn't too late.

"I thank you, but your accompaniment will not be necessary," He said opening his eyes again, "This venture is not suitable for a lady."

The dark-haired girl chuckled and Gerald once again was struck with how surprisingly cute she was.

"I thought I wasn't a lady," she smiled and nudged his arm, "Common, I have a cart and horse back at my home."

Gerald frowned in annoyance but had no choice but to follow her. He only hoped that she wouldn't turn around and stab him in the back later. Like an honorless pirate sympathizer would.

* * *

The moonlight danced on the water as they walked down the beach. They had left Shelia Roth's house some time ago as everyone readied for bed. Helga had elected to take a nighttime stroll. They were to set sail in the morning and she had no idea when they would see land again.

"You should have seen this room, my lady," Arnold gushed, "The captain must have collected maps from all over the known world! Do you know if he drew them all or did he collect them?"

Helga shrugged, smiling as if amused by his enthusiasm, "As far as I know, Roth has never drawn a map in his life. Every time we get lost, he blames me for screwing up the map."

Arnold's jaw dropped and he stared at her with wide eyes, "You draw maps, my lady?"

"Ha! Not if I can help it!" She snorted, "I push it off on Edmund as much as I can. You seem to enjoy it though. You two were up in that room for a while."

"I do, I love it!" Arnold sighed wistfully, "Sailing the seas untethered. Exploring lands unknown and leaving a guide for people to follow after. That sounds like the life."

Helga hummed and they walked in silence for a while. Arnold took in the beauty around them. The waves gave a soft, steady hum as they crashed onto the shore. He carried his shoes in one hand as he bare feet sank into the sand. He glanced over at his companion and felt his heart flutter. She claimed that she wanted to enjoy some solitude before being trapped in a crowded vessel again and was allowing Arnold to tag along. But Arnold secretly hoped that she had ulterior motives.

"My lady," he ventured softly, "may I have the pleasure of holding your hand?"

A light blush spread across her face and she nodded, staring straight ahead of her. Arnold reached across and took her hand in his, threaded their fingers together. Once again, a comfortable silence enveloped them. He caressed her hand with his thumb and heard her give a tiny sigh. Arnold took another look around them. They were alone. Mrs. Roth's house and the _Fox Hole_ had all but disappeared behind them. An opportunity like this may never come again on the crowded ship. Now was a good a time as ever.

"My lady," Arnold cleared his throat, "there's um, something I wish to discuss with you."

"Ohh, so formal," Helga started to smirk, "this must be serious."

"I am being serious," Arnold stopped so he could look her in the eye, "Captain Roth offered me a permanent position on the ship."

The smirk on Helga's face froze and her eyes widened.

"But I can't just abandon my port," Arnold added quickly with a sigh of frustration, "They need me and-"

"Then go back to them," Helga snatched her hand from his and started walking. "There, problem solved."

"But I need you!" Arnold called after her.

Helga stopped walking and he heard her sharp intake of breath. She didn't turn around though so he laid his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Her eyes were moist, glistening in the moonlight but her expression was sharp, waiting. She looked absolutely beautiful.

"My lady," Arnold shook his head, no more formality, "Helga. The time I spent with you has been invaluable beyond words. You've opened my eyes to feelings and experiences I never thought possible. And I can no longer imagine a life without you in it."

Arnold's hands slid from her shoulder to waist, pulling her close to wrap his arms around her. She yielded to his embrace, placing her hands on his chest, and continued staring up at him.

"I love you," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, "I love you Helga, and I want you to come back with me."

Helga gave a tiny repressed sob and lowered her gaze, "Brian-"

"He can come too," Arnold held her tighter, "We'll adopt him. He'll be safe and happy with us. I want to give you anything your heart desires. I want to give you the world."

Helga's teeth sank into her lower lip. A lone tear escaped and ran down her face as she lifted her gaze back to him.

"I can't," She said, her voice firm but sad, "As much as I... love you too, I can't just leave with you. You say you want to give me the world, but what I need is to be free."

She started to move away from him, but Arnold only held her tighter, a grin beginning to stretch his face. She loved him! She actually said she loved him!

"And you shall have your freedom," Arnold pressed his lips to her forehead, "Come home with me and I'll give you a ship of your own," He pressed another kiss to her eyelid, "And your own crew," A kiss to her other eyelid, "Just say you'll make your home with me. If I can be with you, even for just a little while at a time, I shall be truly happy."

"Arnold," His name fell as a whispered rush from her lips as his mouth descended onto hers. He opened her mouth with his, tasting her, devouring her. Helga moaned in approval, sliding her hands up into his hair.

This kiss was something deeper than their kiss in the alleyway. Tender with their newly requited love and quickly slipping into unbridled passion. Her tongue slid along his, making him shiver. This time, his hands were unrestrained so there was nothing to stop him from grabbing a fist full of that golden hair of hers and pulling her head back to expose her throat to him. Her lips broke from his with a gasp which quickly turned into a moan as he trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

"Arnold," she whispered his name again, "oh, my love. My love. My passion burns for thee. My very soul craves you. You are the part of me I never knew was missing. My love, my greatest desire is thee."

A growl issued from deep with Arnold's throat, something he didn't even know was possible. There was just something about her poetry with the taste of her skin on his lips, that ignited something fiery and almost primal from deep within him. Before he could stop himself, his teeth sank into her collarbone making her cry out.

"Sorry," he quickly began soothing the bite with his tongue, "Your poetry just does something to me. I forget myself, my lady."

"Does it now?" Helga tugged his head up from the crook of her neck and fixed him with a mischievous, misty-eyed look, "My love, my heart for thee beats true. The nectar of your lips. The endless jade sea of your eyes. My heart, my soul, I give to you. Our only witness, the stars above, as we affirm our passions in the act of love."

Arnold's eyes widened and his heart leaped into his throat. He tightened his grip on her waist as if trying to hold on to his last shred of the gentleman within him. But his resistance was fast waning.

"My lady," he licked his dry lips, "are you sure?"

Helga smirked and tugged his lips back to hers. Arnold groaned, his eyes slid shut, and they sank into the sand together.


End file.
